


The Lighthouse, the Mailbox, and the Mountain

by ecmwr



Category: Moominvalley (Cartoon 2019), Mumintroll | Moomins Series - Tove Jansson
Genre: Also Snorkmaiden needs more development, I needed some resolution, M/M, Post-Moominvalley in November, Snorkmaiden & Snufkin centric, please forgive my inconsistent drawings, so I wrote that too, so i wrote some, they're late teens here so you'll have to forgive some angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-15 14:00:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19297186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecmwr/pseuds/ecmwr
Summary: Seasons change, usually faster than people do.As the years pass on, Snufkin still travels, just as Moomin still waits for his return. That's how it is, after all- how it's always been. And so long as Snufkin doesn't stare too hard, things don't have to get more complicated than they already have.(Now with illustrations!)





	1. In which there is a flood, a family, and a flower

Floods were hardly a rare sight in Moominvalley, though some were decidedly more sudden than others.

This one, for instance, was slow as these things go, seeping glacially over the grassy hills with the melting of the snow. Moominhouse had woken from hibernation to find their floorboards soggy and wet, and within a scant few days, the footbridge that crossed the creek had been nearly swallowed by the rising tide.

Moomin had fretted over that, of course, so Moominmamma sat with him on the roof of their house and watched as the current crept slowly over the bridge's weathered railing.

"How is Snufkin supposed to get back now?" Moomin had grumbled, glaring at the rising water as if to make it flow in reverse.

The upset look on her son's face didn’t belong there, Moominmamma decided, so she answered, "Perhaps he'll hop across the treetops, dear," in a light tone. The answer was only part joking- she didn't put it past the wanderer to find his way back home despite the conditions. He was resourceful, that one, and of late had been especially tenacious in his punctuality.

Soon, though, and with no sign of a green hat or a spring tune, the water crested the treetops altogether. Moominpapa had long since gone for the boat they kept moored next to the beach, and while he was gone, Moomin kept his eyes fixed on the distant edge of the valley where the water had not yet reached, squinting as if he could see much of anything over such a ways.

When Moominpapa finally came sailing into view, standing heroically atop the stern of _The Adventure_ , Moominmamma thought wistfully of a time when her family had fit aboard a floating armchair. It had been some time since then (since the girl in the flower and the strange old man with his garden of sweets) though Moominmamma still remembered their adventure fondly. It was what had brought them here, after all, to find Moominpapa and his tall blue house and the valley they had called home for so long now. _We’d sink the poor chair now, I fear_ , Moominmamma mused, and the thought made her sad in a strange, contented sort of way. Little My, Sniff, the Snorks and Snufkin, even quiet little Toft and his odd gifts.

_Indeed_ , thought Moominmamma happily, despite the rising water. _Far too large a family for a single chair, now._  

To that end, the denizens of Moominhouse climbed aboard _The Adventure_ one morning, delaying only to eat their fill of breakfast from the house roof.

Halfway through their coffee, the Snorks bid them good day from a sort of flying machine that appeared quite suddenly, hovering shakily overhead.

"Hello, all!" Shouted the Snork over the swirling of propellers, his face rather red from pedaling to keep them adrift. "May we have some toast? We need to keep our energy up if we're going to keep ahead of this awful flood!" Snorkmaiden waved at Moomin cheerily from her seat aboard the strange machine, though the lad noticed with a bit of humor that she was not pedalling. Instead, she had busied herself with setting a large, yellow dandelion behind her ear, fussing to get it just right.

"Well of course!" Moominmamma shouted back, eyeing the machine warily. "Marmalade or jam?"

The Snork shook his head proudly. "Oh no, it surely won’t! I've just greased the gears this morning, it's perfectly safe!"

While the two carried out their unfortunate conversation, Moomin cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted too, adding to the din. "Good morning, Snorkmaiden!"

"Good morning, Moomintroll!” She returned merrily. “Do you like my flower?"

It took Moomin a second to decipher what she meant. "The dandelion?" Moomin thought for a moment about if a dandelion was even a flower or not, and decided it was, for Snorkmaiden's sake. "It matches your hair!"

The machine, having been ignored thus far into the conversation, made a rude clunking sound. They all stopped to listen to it.

Instead of speaking, like normal folk do, the machine whined loudly, shuddered in the air, then dropped down into the water with a great splash that washed Moomin's unfinished scone off the roof. He watched it bob on the surface of the water dejectedly before a fish came up to steal it. Letting the fish have his breakfast (for fish needed to eat too) Moomin busied himself with pulling the Snorks ashore before they sank completely.

_A scone for a Snorkmaiden_ , he thought, fixing her dandelion proudly. _Seems a fair trade to me!_

They were both a little wet, though no worse for wear. Moominmamma prepared to offer condolences for the poor helicopter, but the Snork seemed preoccupied, writing feverishly in a small, leather-bound book. Moominmamma asked him politely what he was writing and hummed and nodded when he began to say words like ‘fuselage’ and ‘transmission’, which quite frankly, sounded just a tad made up.

Snorkmaiden, ecstatic at the opportunity to be rescued, made a show of falling into Moomintroll’s arms. Little My scoffed quietly, but Moominmamma shushed her before she could say anything untoward. “We haven’t a clue how long we’ll be in this boat, dear,” she reasoned, as they cast off, though the Mymble no longer seemed to be paying attention. “We’ll have to make sure not to step on any toes while we look for a place to land.” 

“Land?” said Moominpappa incredulously. He stuffed a scone into his mouth between his words, busying himself with the ropes and lines that lay scattered about the floor of the boat. “We’ve been stuck inside all winter, craving adventure, and now adventure has come to us!” he lashed a line, then stepped over Sniff, who was doing his best to stay out of the way (though admittedly not doing a very good job). “Darling,” he said, straightening his hat excitedly. “Think of the possibilities! We could sail straight to France!”

Moominmamma was unsure. “France seems dreadfully far, dearest,” she said, tipping his hat back askew. “And neither of us speaks the language very well.”

“Au contrair, mon Amour,” Moominpapa said, theatrically, thoroughly exhausting his French vocabulary. “The Moomins against the world, hacking it out in the seedy underbelly of _Paris,_ living danger to danger? That would be the perfect way to snuff out our mid-life crisis!”

“ _Your_ midlife crisis, dear,” Moominmamma clarified with a smile. “And I’m quite content to drift a-ways, but perhaps we should have packed better if we were planning such a voyage.”

Moominpapa grinned, not put-out in the slightest. “One day, my dear, one day. And when that day comes, we shall stand beneath the Eifel Tower and drink ourselves to the top!”

“I’m not sure wine works that way, Papa,” said Moomin sceptically. “and besides, we can’t leave until Snufkin gets here. What will he think if he comes home and we’re missing?”

“Well, we don’t have to wait around for his sake,” said Little My, peeling an orange. “He’d come across us eventually, most like. It would be like a giant game of hide-and-seek!”

“We’re not going to _hide_ from Snufkin, Little My,” Moomin replied crossly. “That would be terribly rude. And besides, it’s only a game if everyone knows we’re playing.”

“Well said,” said Moominmamma proudly.

Snorkmaiden nodded, too. “He shouldn’t be long now, anyways,” she added, patting Moomin on the arm. “We should play a game, though, I’m horribly bored already.”

Sniff poked his head up, hopefully. “We could do ‘I Spy’!”

Little My laughed. “’I Spy’ what, exactly? A cloud? The water?”

“A tree!” answered Sniff happily, pointing behind them. Confused, they all turned around to see the tip of a tree rising slowly out of the water, dripping wet and verdant green. Moomintroll cocked his head. _Now what on earth would make a tree do that?_ He thought.

“There’s another one, there!” shouted Snorkmaiden, peering over the railing, excitedly. “And another!”

“The forest is floating, perhaps,” mused Sniff, stealing a slice of Little My’s orange.

She snatched it away from him, glowering. “It’s not,” she said, stuffing the rest of the fruit into her mouth. “We’re sinking.”

“I think the flood’s going away,” said Snork, speaking for the first time since digging his nose into his journal. “That’s very interesting.”

“Is it?” Moomin and Snorkmaiden said simultaneously. Little My cackled.

“It is if you know what I do,” said the Snork rather pompously. “But you don’t, so I’ll just tell you.” He waited for dramatic effect. “It is.”

They argued for a minute before _The Adventure_ came to a sudden, squishy halt against the sodden hill they had been floating above just moments before. The forest reappeared entirely, and even as they watched, the water receded away into the woods, as if fleeing from some terrifying sort of monster.

_Well, now,_ thought Moominmamma interestedly. _That truly_ is _strange._

"Well, that’s that then," Sniff said, looking pleased. "And I didn’t even have to get wet this time! I do hope my house hasn't floated far… it's not so big, but it's still heavy as all get out!"

With that, the small creature leapt out of the boat and onto the muddy hillside with a wet plop, making for the treeline.

A second pair of feet hit the ground behind Moomintroll, and he turned to see the Snork wading through the mud with his notebook held above his head protectively.

"The water’s not so high anymore, you dope," sniggered Little My, who was standing atop the boat's bow as if it were still on open water. "And there's so much nonsense in that book of yours, your arms might give out before you get home!"

The Snork just sniffed, holding his book higher. "None of it is nonsense, and I'm stronger than I look!" he said proudly. "You'll see, My, it's very important research!"

Little My cackled again as the stubby creature waded through the mud. "Oh, we'll see, alright. We'll see..."

Moomintroll sat back into the boat with a huff, resting his chin in his hands as he stared over the railing at the red tip of Moominhouse poking over a hill in the distance. Snorkmaiden patted him on the shoulder, taking the dandelion out from behind her ear and tucking it behind his. "Oh, you," she said airily, taking a pair of yellow rain boots Toft handed her and lowering herself after her brother. "Look on the bright side, Moomintroll, now Snufkin can get here sooner!"

Moomin perked up, just a bit. "Where are you going?" He called after Snorkmaiden, half-heartedly.

"I'm going to see if there's any flowers left!" She turned around, stepping carefully so as to not slop any mud above her boots. "I've just given you mine, after all!"

Moomin waved her off with a 'good luck', and the smallest of smiles. As he watched her go, he felt very strange, indeed; like he was standing in the middle of a river that couldn’t decide which way it wanted to flow.

_Both ways might be downstream then_ , hummed a voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Snufkin. _Or both could be up!_

His ponderings were interrupted by Little My, who was leaning dangerously far over the railing, looking down at all the mud with a frown. "All the flowers probably got washed away." Her frown vanished, and she grinned at Moomintroll with a flinty sort of expression. "Not that a dandelion is even a real flower, anyhow!"

"It is too!" said Moomintroll, affronted. He touched the plant protectively, making sure it sat firmly behind his ear. "Right, Mama? Papa?"

The two grown Moomins gave each other a look before Moominmamma answered with a small smile of her own. "Whatever it is, dear, it's very pretty." Moominpappa nodded sagely, giving Moomin a well-meaning pat on the arm.

"Quite so, son, quite so," he said in that studious way of his that meant he was hardly paying attention. He glanced around, looking almost disappointed. "Well then. That may have been the shortest adventure of all time- and that's including the last time this sort of thing happened!"

"Well," hummed Moominmamma thoughtfully. "It was still nice to get out of the house after the winter months, don't you think? And besides, we needn't go back yet. We could have a picnic!"

Everyone still in the boat nodded in agreement. "Just as well," Little My said. "But we'll have to stay in the boat. That mud must come up past my waist!"

And so they did. Moominmamma set a spread of their food inside the boat atop a clean linen, while Moominpapa and Little My set to rigging the sail against the sun so they could have some shade. Moomintroll didn’t do much of anything really, except plunk his chin on the boat railing and sigh dramatically. He still wanted to go on an adventure. He wanted to be back at Moominhouse for when Snufkin returned. He wanted to pick flowers with Snorkmaiden and find a flower, a _real_ flower, to put in her hair.

_This must be how Snufkin feels, come Winter_ , he decided: all pulled around in different directions. _Snufkin might like some flowers too_ , he thought, gazing glumly at the muddy hill they were propped on. _I'd pick some lilies and Snorkmaiden could make a crown for his hat, just the way he likes._

But he didn’t do any of that. Instead, Moomintroll just sat like a great lump in the shade of the unfurled sail and ate jam preserves. Moominpappa told stories, standing up and rocking the boat at all the most exciting bits, causing Little My to get jam all over her nose. Somehow, even though he knew he was trying to be miserable, Moomin couldn't quite bring himself to be glum. Spring was here, after all.

Dreamily, he hoped Snufkin was somewhere close, picking flowers.


	2. In which there is a homecoming, and a mystery to solve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ♪here comes a special boy♪

 

Moonlight drifted down through the canopy, cold and white on the snow that still littered the forest floor.

A lone traveller wove between the moon’s pale fingers, hopping from side to side on the well-worn path in an attempt to avoid the half-frozen puddles that had formed along its length. The ground was wet, and great clots of frozen mud stuck stubbornly to his boots as he wound his way steadily uphill. It was hard going, and pale wisps of breath followed in his wake like a long silvery scarf. Despite his steady pace and the layers of cloth that clung to him under his coat, the mumrik shivered.

Snufkin tightened his numbed fingers around the straps of his pack and straightened out his breathing.

He’d been hasty in his return, if truth be told. He was tired, and carried a chilled, bone-deep lethargy that warned of impending sickness; and though he’d never say, he felt just the smallest bit lonely.

He’d passed many people on the road, to be sure, and had even stayed in one sleepy town for nearly a week after a kindly old shopkeeper had promised to teach him to play the wood flute. He’d met his share of hemul, house-trolls, niblings and even the odd mumrik (he’d even gone so far as to stow away aboard a loud, smelly steamboat to save time on his return trip) but it was not the company of strangers which Snufkin longed for.

Somewhere ahead, his friends waited, busying themselves with spring-cleanings and grand parties and enjoying all the things that came with the melting of the snow. Snufkin wished more than anything to be with them now, instead of slogging sore-footed through a rooted, muddy hill with wet clothes and an empty stomach. To tide himself over, he’d been imaging plates of pancakes and sent to him by way of Moomin. They would meet on the footbridge as they always did and talk about their favourite jams, and of what they could get up to in long afternoons ahead.

He thought so hard about the taste of pancakes and Moomintroll’s odd manners that he hardly noticed the sun beginning to peek out from behind the silvery poplars, dappling the road golden and making his trip just a tad easier.

_After we’ve eaten our fill of pancakes,_ Snufkin thought, his stomach growling noisily, _I’ll tell dear Moomintroll about all the strange sorts of things I ate while I was away._ An odd, homely scene crossed his mind then, of a warm, busy kitchen full of sizzling food and smiling family. _Maybe I’ll get Moomin to wear one of his mother’s aprons,_ he thought wryly.  

The sun rose, the flowers craned their necks, and Snufkin walked. The warmth brought by morning improved his mood immensely, and he whistled the first tentative notes of his spring tune, which he had finished some time ago now. It was yet unnamed, but that was the nature of things that did not yet have the grace of being shared- a song wasn’t so much without someone to share it with, Snufkin knew.

The lingering snowbanks began to melt into long, twisting rivulets that trickled gently down the sides of the path. Some of them crossed the road where they pleased, carving small divots in the soft dirt. At some point, the path had become downhill, and Snufkin made sure to place his boots carefully lest he accidentally sit down into the mud.  

The sound of birds and squirrels rose gradually on the wind, some of them mimicking Snufkin’s tune curiously. He whistled louder, enjoying the cacophony of notes that followed him as he entered Moominvalley proper. The sounds, the smells, and the mood of Moominvalley all served to urge him on, feeding the fire that burned hotter inside his chest with every step.

_There is a special kind of joy in coming home,_ Snufkin decided.

The great red cap of Moominhouse dipped and poked through the greenery from a mile away, and just the sight of it made Snufkin's heart lighter. His chill was all but gone, and he had such a spring in his step that he couldn't help but skip as the path wove its way down. Briefly, he thought of stopping by to check in on Teety-Woo, but he decided there would be plenty of time for that later, once he'd settled in. One only gets a single chance to make his yearly entrance, after all, and he was late as it was.

Strangely, the thought of his tardiness didn’t bother him as much as it once had; there was an infectious energy in Moominvalley, the kind that crept its way into your heart and made you think of friends and flowers and all the things that waited ahead. He stopped only long enough to pull the harmonica from his pack before he set off again, at a brisker pace than before.

A new song found him as he hopped across a trickling stream, and he played one slow note after another, struggling to keep his enthusiasm in check. _I must look dreadfully foolish,_ he thought happily as he rounded the final bend, sauntering to the tempo the whole while.

The sight of the tall blue tower in all its homely glory brought a smile to his face so wide that he had trouble keeping a full note. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this excited to return, and he somehow knew with an ironclad certainty that this year would be one to remember.

He wandered his way onto the bridge with a flourish, dropping his pack to one side before plopping down comfortably to hang his boots over the edge. With one hand, he unlaced them, tossing them on top of his pack and stretching out in the sun with a long, languid note, letting his tune fade away to the bubbling of the creek.

_I should like to remember that one,_ Snufkin reflected in the sudden quiet, lying back on the bridge and sighing contentedly. _'The Trail's End', I'll call it. Or perhaps 'Breath of Spring'._

He daydreamed for a time before stretching again, sitting up, and looking curiously over at the house, which stood oddly quiet atop its hill. Even from here, he could tell that there was little afoot inside. _They won’t still be sleeping, surely._

Snufkin frowned, running his sums again in his head. He was late, for a certainty; by half a moon's turn, at that. He had been expecting to see fuzzy white shapes through the windows, or on the veranda, eating lunch. But the longer he stared, the quieter the house looked. It seemed oddly... empty.

The thought was enough to spur Snufkin to his feet, leaving his things where they lay. His trepidation dissolved however, when a joyous shout came from behind him.

"Snufkin!"

The voice nearly made him drop his hat as he spun to meet it, momentarily hopeful. For a moment, he saw Moomin, before he glimpsed the shock of golden curls atop her head.

"Snorkmaiden?" He tried his best not to let his disappointment show on his face or in his tone. In truth, he was quite glad to see her, though she wasn’t the first he'd thought to meet. For her part, Snorkmaiden seemed preoccupied, though her smile was genuine.

"Hello, Snufkin!" She greeted jovially. Then, looking down, "What happened to your shoes?"

Snufkin looked down at his bare feet, taken a bit aback. Recovering quickly, he replied, "They snuck away from me one night, the silly old things. I chased after them, as you can imagine, but they just led me back here."

Snorkmaiden giggled. "A likely story," she said accusingly. "They must escape you often, because you seem to keep turning up!"

They shared a laugh before Snorkmaiden held out her paws. In them was a wreath of dandelions (which truth be told, looked a little soggy). "Do you like it? I've just come by to give it to Moomintroll, and to see if he's still got the dandelion I gave him. There weren't many flowers left after the flood, but I figured these would do just fine."

Snufkin frowned. "Flood?" He asked, curiously. Perhaps that would explain the soggy trails and unexpected streams. Still though, there was something strange about hearing of a flood that he hadn't even noticed.

"Indeed," said Snorkmaiden, taking no notice of his rather perplexed expression. "It came about a week ago, and the high water only lasted a few hours at most." She cast a dirty look over her shoulder. "I would have visited sooner, but Snork has had me helping repair that _awful_ flying machine of his. When did you arrive?"

"Only just now," Snufkin replied, even more confused. A few hours? Moominvalley flooded and drained in a few hours? And so recently? _Where has all the water gone?_

Truth be told, he wasn’t overly concerned about it, merely curious. Weather in Moominvalley was strange at best and nonsensical at worst, and this wouldn’t be the first time something mystifying had happened here. _Probably won’t be the last, either,_ he smiled faintly. "How is your brother? And what's this about a flying machine?"

Snorkmaiden snorted dismissively. "He's irritating, is how he is. And his rusty contraption is more apt to crash than to fly. Have you seen Moomintroll around?"

"Not yet," he said, an odd feeling settling in his stomach. "I was rather hoping you had, actually. He didn’t come down to hear my newest tune."

"Well that's odd," said Snorkmaiden. "Usually he's down here already.” She frowned for a moment, then wondered aloud: "Do you think Little My's done something to him?"

Snufkin laughed. "Tied him to a chair maybe? Or stuffed him in a kettle?"

Snorkmaiden smiled a strange sort of smile. "In a closet, more like. She does hate the sound of whinging, and Moomintroll was rather dramatic about your arrival this year."

Snufkin laughed amiably, donning his hat again to shield him from the sun. After spending the morning walking, his face was rather hot, and it would be unbecoming to get heat stroke so early in the season. _What kind of hardened traveller might I be then?_

"Shall we go save him, then?" He said once he'd gotten to his feet. "I hate the thought of our dear Moomin unable to whinge."

Snorkmaiden snorted again, popping the wreath on top of her head, slightly askew. "I think we'd better. He's not likely to rescue himself, you know."

They set off together towards the house, meandering just a little as they talked. Snufkin savoured the feeling of the warm dirt between his toes as he basked in the warmth of good company and the feeling of home- of not having to go anywhere else for a while.

He loved the road with a passion (and he wasn’t like to stop his habit of travelling any time soon) but there was something superbly comforting about having somewhere to come back to after all is said and done- about having a place full of friends and warm food that he could always rely on to be _exactly_ where he left it.

They stepped up to the shaded veranda, and Snufkin doffed his hat politely. In the corner of his eye, Snorkmaiden smirked at him, and straightened her flower crown primly with a mock-serious look on her face. They shared a chuckle, and Snufkin knocked three times next to the handle.

They waited, Snufkin fiddling with the hem of his cloak. He was anxious to see Moomintroll at last, despite his earlier jest. It had been a long, hard winter, and a warm, soft friend would be just what he needed.

After a time, Snorkmaiden looked to him impatiently. "Do you think they're home?" She asked, sounding disappointed. Snufkin shrugged, and they both shuffled to peer in the window curiously.

The window was misty around the edges, which made Snufkin frown. Through the foggy glass, they could see the lumpy shapes of the sofa, the chandelier and the coffee table, sitting right where they always did- though, rather troublingly, they also noticed the white sheets covering the furniture. Snufkin's brow furrowed.

Snorkmaiden, looking rather aghast, pushed back from the window and batted open the door, gasping as she looked into the living room. "What the Dickins..." she mumbled as she entered, Snufkin wincing not far behind her.

The room felt stuffy- _No,_ Snufkin decided- _muggy._ It felt as if no doors or windows had been opened since the flood, and the sheets that still clung to the furniture gave the room a ghostly feel. Snufkin misliked the look of it- it felt wrong somehow.

"When did you say you saw Moomin?" He asked, trying not to let the rising panic show in his voice.

Snorkmaiden pinched the damp edge of a sheet gently and made a face. "A few days ago, perhaps? Just after the flood let out. We'd all taken _The Adventure_ out to see if we could find somewhere to land, but we were grounded soon after. I don’t think we made it very far."

Snufkin thought hard about what that may mean.He stopped himself. _It doesn’t mean anything, yet._ "Let's go look upstairs," he said, grabbing Snorkmaiden by the hand as he passed by. "Maybe the witch got them again."

"She'd better not have," said Snorkmaiden crossly, tightening her grip and following him up. "I'll have some choice words for her if she has, and Alicia, too."

The house creaked eerily as they climbed. On the first landing, Snufkin bee-lined straight for the door of Moomin's room. He shouldn’t have been shocked, but the sight of his empty bed and the wet squish of the carpet under his feet made his heart sink. "Moomintroll?" He shouted, a note of panic setting in. Opposite him, he could hear Snorkmaiden calling into the other rooms.

"Come out, Moomintroll,  you sot!" Her voice was tinged with the same uncertainty as his. "Little My? Hello?"

They both ascended to the attic, Snufkin beating her to the ladder and poking his head through the creaky old trapdoor.

"Anything?" Said Snorkmaiden from below him, wringing her paws. The empty attic stared back at him in answer.

"They could be out for a picnic?" He supplied weakly, closing the door above him.

"What about their Spring clean?" Snorkmaiden asked sceptically. "They haven't even taken the covers off the furniture!"

Snufkin lapsed back into thought, then started back downstairs. He and Snorkmaiden combed the house once more on their way down, though neither really knew what they were looking for that they hadn't already checked. Snufkin poked his head into the stove that the Ancestor liked to live in occasionally, but found only a layer of old soot. Snorkmaiden carefully opened the cellar door and braved the dark abyss that lay behind it, though she had no better luck.

They met in the living room, both still looking as if Moomin would pop up from behind the sofa or fall from the chandelier. Eventually, they admitted defeat.

"There was some food missing from the pantry," supplied Snorkmaiden, fretting with her crown. "Not more than a few jars and some preserves, though."

Snufkin breathed deeply, closing his eyes and thinking. "We should go ask Sniff," he decided- surely he'd been around the house before they had. "And Mr. Hemulon."

Snorkmaiden nodded, her paws picking at the dandelions. "Good idea. Who knows? They could have just gone over to Too-Ticky's since Moominhouse is all soggy."

Inwardly, Snufkin doubted that either Moominmamma or Moominpappa would let their house be in such a state while they went for tea, but he kept it to himself.

The two left the front door open to air the place out and walked back to the bridge to collect Snufkin's things. Sniff's house wasn’t far, and they came upon it quickly, just before noon. Sniff himself was lying insensate on a rock in his front lawn, panting and drinking gluttonously from the garden hose.

"Hullo," he said wearily as they approached. "You haven't come to take my house, have you?"

Snufkin raised his eyebrow and looked to Snorkmaiden, who shrugged. "I don’t think so," he said to Sniff, who nodded gratefully.

"Well that's good. I've only just got it back." Muddy drag-marks led down the path they'd just walked, which Snufkin hadn't even noticed in his worried state. Nonplussed, Sniff continued to talk around the hose in his gob. "I wonder if Moominpappa will help me bolt the dratted thing down?"

"We can ask him when we find him," said Snorkmaiden, walking over to the hose and kinking it, just under the tap. Sniff whined for a moment, then sat up, suddenly interested.

"What do you mean, 'once you find him'?" He asked incredulously. "Moominhouse hasn't floated away too, has it?" He reached for the hose, but Snorkmaiden slapped his wrist.

"No," she answered insistently. "But the Moomins may have. Do you have any idea where they've gone off to?"

"Not a clue," he admitted, trying to reach around Snorkmaiden. She huffed, holding the hose behind her back with a very serious expression. Sniff gave up, draping himself back over his rock despondently. "I've been very busy dragging my house back to where it's supposed to be, you know. I didn't know it was my job to keep track of them."

"It isn't," said Snufkin impatiently. "We only thought that you might know where they've got off to is all."

"Well, I don't." Sniff pouted. "And you two are being very rude, right now."

Snorkmaiden softened. "We're sorry Sniff, it's just that we're quite worried! Snufkin's only just got back, and I haven’t seen Moomin since the flood!"

Sniff thought about that for a moment, while Snufkin fiddled with the strap of his pack. The whole situation was making him feel frustrated. _So much for things being where I left them,_ he thought grumpily.

"Well," said Sniff thoughtfully. "I did see the boat on my way back. It's got its sail up and everything, just sitting atop a hill!" He snickered.

Snorkmaiden thought about that for a moment before nodding. “Thanks, Sniff, that’s where we’ll start.” She turned to leave, unkinking the hose as she went. “Let us know if they come by here, will you?”

They said their goodbyes to their disgruntled friend, Snorkmaiden leading along the path that would take them to where _The Adventure_ had been grounded.

“It’s a bit exciting, don’t you think?” She mused as they walked. “I feel rather like an old-timey detective, following the clues to some horrific murder!” She caught Snufkin’s bemused expression and rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t be so glum. Moominpappa probably just dragged them off on some silly trek to a cave or some such nonsense.”

“You’d think he’d know better,” said Snufkin, smiling despite himself. “After the lighthouse.”

Snorkmaiden giggled. “I don’t think that man’s ‘known better’ since he set eyes on Moominmamma! People don’t think nearly so much once they’ve got someone to do it for them, you know.”

Snufkin laughed at that, and felt a familiar feeling settle into his chest. He had missed being able to talk like this, nattering half-serious jests about the absurdity of his family. It helped doubly then, that Moominvalley contained both an above-average population of the eccentric, as well as Snorkmaiden’s glib tongue.

“And between you and Moomin,” he asked playfully, “who does the thinking?” For some reason, he found himself very interested in the answer, though he could not say why.

Snorkmaiden looked at him flatly for a moment before saying, “You look at Moomin and tell me he uses his brain for more than getting out of bed, and I’ll have your answer.”

“He writes poetry, on occasion,” said Snufkin defensively. “And he’s quite good at poker.”

She looked at him with that same strange expression that she’d had earlier. “You haven’t read most of his poetry,” she said, sighing in a way that made Snufkin very much want to read Moomin’s poetry. “And you go far too easy on him when we play cards.”

“I don’t!” Snufkin held. “He can just read me better than most people.”

Snorkmaiden giggled. “You’re not so hard to read.”

Snufkin scoffed, affronted. “What am I thinking of, right this instant?”

“Moomintroll, probably.”

“I’m not!” He was. Flushed, Snufkin pulled his hat down across his face and stomped ahead, ignoring Snorkmaiden’s snorts of laughter behind him. “You’ve been hanging around Little My too much, I think.”

“And you haven’t been around her near enough,” Snorkmaiden returned, trying to catch up. “Being around My does wonders to one’s sense of propriety.”

Snufkin didn’t doubt it. He mumbled something nasty about his sister’s ‘sense of propriety’, which Snorkmaiden politely decided not to hear.

_The Adventure_ rested exactly where Snorkmaiden had left it, sat proudly atop a hill in a small clearing. Just as Sniff had said, its sail was raised and fluttering, rocking the boat slightly in the breeze. It was a bizarre sight, and one that made Snufkin smile; they’d been on many adventures aboard that boat, and even grounded it more than once on shoals and beaches and the like, but never quite so badly as this.

Unfortunately, the boat proved empty save for a half-eaten jar of jam- of the Moomins, there was no trace.

“They could have left a note,” grumbled Snorkmaiden. Suddenly, a look of realization fell over her.

“What is it?” asked Snufkin, leaning against the boat wearily. He was beginning to feel tired, as one does when they’ve spent as many hours walking as he.

Snorkmaiden looked unsure. “Well,” she said, fretting her fingers. “Little My said something during the flood…” she looked at him guiltily, then away to the treeline. “It’s nothing though, I’m sure of it.”

“Any detective worth their salt follows every clue,” said Snufkin amusedly. “I’m sure it’s not so bad as you think.”

The guilty look persisted. “Oh, Snufkin,” she said worriedly. “It’s just that…” Snufkin raised an eyebrow, and Snorkmaiden sighed. “It was a joke, I’m sure, but she said we all ought to all hide away before you arrived.”

Snufkin stared at her, feeling a small pit open up in his stomach. “Ah,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

“We didn’t though,” Snorkmaiden said hurriedly, seeing his face fall. “And Moomin told her off afterwards, too. I was only thinking out loud.”

Snufkin nodded, looking at the ground. It shouldn’t have hurt, he knew. His sister liked her tricks, it was true, but she wouldn’t have convinced everyone else to join in on something like that, Moomin least of all. Still, the thought sat in his head, taking up far too much space than was healthy.

It was then that he noticed something on the ground beneath him. A round, flat footprint sat, perfectly formed in the soft dirt of the hill. He followed its path to the next, then to the one after that until they disappeared into the trees.

He looked to Snorkmaiden and pointed the footprints out. “If they are hiding,” he said with a levity he only half-felt, “They’re doing a poor job of it.”

Snorkmaiden looked relieved. “Well then,” she said, fixing her crown loftily and giving him a warm smile. “Time to see if we’re worth our salt, I think.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Early chapter, because I finished it up much quicker than I thought. Feedback is always appreciated!


	3. In which a journey begins

 

The earth was soft under the canopy, and the tracks proved easy to follow.

Five sets of footprints (sometimes four, where Little My had hitched a ride instead of walked) meandered through the brush, following the path of least resistance against the low-growing foliage. They didn’t seem to have a destination in mind that Snufkin could make out, though their general direction seemed to be toward the Lonely Mountain, which stood tall enough on the horizon to cut through swaths of clouds like a great stone knife.

Snorkmaiden followed behind, in far less a hurry than he seemed to be. Often, he would turn to make sure she was still there, only to spot her picking handfuls of red-spotted mushrooms or attempting to peer into bird's nests that sat on low-hanging branches.

He waited patiently for her to catch up each time, biting his tongue when he felt the urge to tell her off; a task which became rather difficult to do as the shadows of midday grew longer and the tracks began to fade.

The trail ended with the treeline, the cooler, shaded dirt holding form better than the sun-dried grasses of the foothills. The field, which was mostly ryegrass and clover, spanned for nearly a kilometer until the rolling dell vanished into a thick span of brush on the far side.

Snufkin leaned against a tree, keeping to the shade and fiddling with his pack while he waited for Snorkmaiden to catch up. As he waited, he surveyed the area, weighing their options and trying to pick out more footprints in the low, springy grasses.

 _We still have hours before dark_ , he mulled, shifting his weight uneasily. _We might be able to catch up before nightfall, if only we picked up our pace._

He didn't resent Snorkmaiden for stopping to smell the roses; he acted much the same on his own travels, when he found himself in twisting woods and knotted dells. But this was different. _We're here for Moomin before anything else_. The thought sounded more annoyed than he had meant it to, so he took a long, steadying breath to calm his nerves.

Snufkin knew he ought not to be worried- this was Moominvalley, and if anyone knew how to navigate it, it would be the Moomins. Still, he couldn't help feeling just a little bit resentful that his first day back home had been spent much the same as the last few months: walking. He'd been eager to do nothing more than pitch his tent, sit on the footbridge, and wait for Moomintroll to come down and meet him as he always did. _Not happening now, I suppose,_ he thought, bitterly.

His own resentment surprised him. Snufkin took a great deal of pride in his even temper, and it took quite a lot to rile him up most days- he was even more surprised to find that some of his malcontent was directed at _Moomin_ of all people. The fact that Snufkin was out searching for him after having trekked all the way back in such a hurry irked him in a way that he could not shake. "What foolish feelings to have," he muttered to himself quietly, wishing they'd go away.

He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he jumped when Snorkmaiden came blundering through the brush behind him. She was holding an array of small white flowers in her paws and fixed him with an amused look as he regained his composure.

"Are you quite alright?" She asked, sounding saccharine to Snufkin's ears.

"Yes," he replied shortly, fixing his hat atop his head. "Where have you been?"

She raised an eyebrow. "Following you, I suppose. You're walking like you've got a fire under your tail!"

Snufkin felt his temper flare. "Well, one of us must set a pace," he said sourly. "I don’t suppose those flowers are going to help us find Moomin any faster?"

Snorkmaiden sniffed. "Perhaps not. I thought he might like to have them when we find him."

Snufkin snorted. " _If_ we find him, you mean. We may never catch up at this rate."

Snorkmaiden looked unimpressed. "You don’t have to be snappy about it." Her paws played with the ends of the flowers idly. "You only had to ask, and I would have stopped meandering so much."

 _I shouldn’t have to ask,_ was Snufkin's first thought, but he stomped it down. Instead, he said, "We should try to get to the mountain before dusk. Get to high ground and look for campfire smoke."

She nodded. "Do you think they're on the mountain somewhere?"

"You're the one who said Moominpappa dragged them all off to live in a cave."

Snorkmaiden rolled her eyes. "Well yes, but that was more... never mind.” She squinted at the mountain. "I should have brought Snork's binoculars. It might have made this all a bit easier."

Snufkin thought about that for a moment and considered if they might try to use an empty bottle for a telescope. He'd seen it done once, in a mummers play in some small township along the coast. One character had a habit of stealing her first-mate's brandy bottle mid-gulp, and would pour out the contents in front of him before looking through the empty bottle to find treasure or some such nonsense. Sniff would have loved it.

Snufkin had laughed along with the rest, though mostly he had been thinking of Moominvalley and the expeditions he and the others had gone on over the years. The only bottle he had right now was a small one, stoppered for carrying healing balm. _When next we go on an adventure like this_ , he thought _, I'll be sure to bring some brandy_.

“Well,” Snufkin conceded. “Cave or not, their tracks lead this way, and it doesn’t look as if they stopped.”

Snorkmaiden eyed the mountain, poking up from the foothills. “That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t. We don’t have to be in a hurry.”

“You did say to set a pace.”

"Oh- I don’t know how Moomin can stand going on hikes with you," The Snorkmaiden said crossly. “You’re quite ill-tempered.”

"Perhaps he just enjoys the harmonica." Snufkin said coolly, playing with the instrument in his pocket.

"I doubt it," she shot back, lifting her nose. "And you smell, too."

"You would too if you went a few weeks without a bath," Snufkin grumbled, crossing his arms self-consciously. His fingers picked irritatedly at a fray in his sleeve.

"As if I would!" Snorkmaiden replied, making a face.

Snufkin scoffed. "I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Snorkmaiden.”

"Pardon?"

"We don’t know where Moomin is. He could be anywhere, so we might be looking for a while." He smiled sweetly, pleased at the unsureness that had settled over her expression. "And there's hardly any baths on mountains."

"There are springs!" Said Snorkmaiden hotly. "And rivers and such. I'm not so hopeless as you think."

"What if the weather dries them all up?"

"Oh, like the comet did to the sea?" Snorkmaiden tisked. "You wouldn’t cry again, would you?"

Snufkin spluttered, taken aback. "Well... I- certainly not with only _you_ around to comfort me." A barb rose to the front of his mind, and he grabbed at it. "Moomin's much better at it, you know."

For a moment, Snorkmaiden looked like she might push him over. "Yes, he would be," she said through gritted teeth. "He’s so very kind, to everyone... Even ruffly vagabonds who smell bad and make too much noise."

"That’s rich,” Snufkin muttered. He pulled harder at the frayed sleeve- it was nearly coming undone, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "You’re shrill enough that it's a wonder Moomintroll can still hear anything at all."

Snorkmaiden gasped. "Shrill? I happen to have a lovely voice, thank you very much!" She paused for a moment before finishing with, "And Moomin thinks so too!" As if that decided it.

For what it was worth, it did; that, or the two both ran out of rude words at the same time, forcing a stalemate. They shared a tense silence (as two friends often do after a row) and as was only expected, Snufkin soon started to regret the things he'd said.

Truth be told, he wasn’t even sure why he'd got so swept up in the argument in the first place- he and Snorkmaiden usually got along rather well.

He frowned, fingering his harmonica in his pocket. _I shouldn’t have carried on like that_ , he thought to himself in sullen silence as they crossed the field. _And heavens, why did I say that about Moomintroll?_

It was true, mind you; Moomin was rather comforting, but that didn’t mean he should have said it like that, and certainly not to Snorkmaiden of all people.

They walked in silence as the mountain grew before them. They found no more footprints, though Snufkin was loathe to mention it. Snorkmaiden, for her part, didn’t seem to be paying much attention, her gaze fixed glumly on the ground ahead.

 _Suits me just fine,_ Snufkin thought bitterly. _I don’t need her help anyhow._

The sun seemed in a hurry to set that evening, and the two had only just reached the rolling foothills when Snorkmaiden insisted they make camp for the night. They found the highest hill they could and climbed to its grassy plateau. Snorkmaiden gathered rocks and sticks for a fire, and Snufkin set up his tent, grateful for the momentary solitude.

While Snorkmaiden scrounged for tinder, he began striking a small pile of leaves and sticks to start them off. It took longer than usual, and Snufkin’s newfound frustration gave him a nicked finger before it gave him flame.

When Snorkmaiden returned, she dropped the sticks to one side and plopped down on a rock with the air of someone who was committed to stubborn silence. Snufkin was more than happy to grant her that.

Snufkin sucked on his bleeding finger dourly. The taste of blood made his stomach turn, and he realised with a sigh that he had not yet eaten today. He had provisions, to be sure, but most of those needed preparing, and he did not want apples. So, in want of a meal, Snufkin crouched in front of the firepit and muttered affable curses at his striker.

"Why are you in such a rush to find him?" Snorkmaiden said, breaking their tense standoff. "We could have just waited at Moominhouse for them to come back, you know. They probably won’t be gone long."

 _I don’t want to wait_ , Snufkin thought, sparking his flint angrily. He bit back a nasty retort, willing his nerves to calm. "There's only so much spring, you know," he said as the flint rang.

Snorkmaiden hummed. "Well, there's always summer, and autumn as well. Plenty of time, really. Winter too, if you count it at all."

"I don’t," said Snufkin flatly, sighing in relief as the sparks finally caught. "Moomintroll sleeps the winters through, and I'm off travelling."

"Not all the time," Snorkmaiden said, making Snufkin turn to look at her. "He doesn’t sleep all the time, I mean," she clarified. "He told me."

"Pardon?" His ire abated, curiosity rising in its place. "What do you mean by that?"

Snorkmaiden shuffled her feet, stiffly. "Has... has he not told you? Moomin has trouble hibernating these days. No one's quite sure why." Snufkin blinked at her, completely taken aback. He racked his brain, but this was the first time he'd ever heard of it, he was sure. She continued, "Last year, he said he was awake for nearly two months."

Snufkin gaped at her. _Two months?_ He mulled that over. "What on earth did he do in that time?"

Snorkmaiden fixed him with a look that was starting to become familiar- part exasperation, part worry, and another part he could not identify. "He wrote poetry, mostly." She sighed, placing her chin in her paws. "Too-Ticky's around, sometimes, or so he tells me. I haven't asked him what they get up to, but I don’t think there's very much to do in winter. Seems a bit bleak to me."

"Why do you think I leave?" Snufkin said with a strained smile. He was eager not to think about Moomin, huddled around the wood stove in the living room, all alone while his family slept. He didn't want to think about how his friend must have felt, waiting days on end for the sun, writing poetry to keep his mind busy. He felt very guilty all of a sudden, for no particular reason. "The cold is simply terrible."

"Is that why you leave?"

"Among other things,” he acceded. “I really do detest snow. It's cold and heavy, and food gets far too scarce in winter for my liking."

"Why don’t you just hibernate with us, then?"

"I don’t hibernate."

"You do!" She looked at him curiously. "Moominmamma still has your old bed somewhere, I'm sure of it!"

"Well..." he had, once. "That was when I was very young. And besides," he said, a fond smile growing on his face. "When Moominvalley sleeps, there are places in the south that only just wake up. Orchards of great pear trees that bear red fruit, and cities that light up so bright one can hardly tell when night falls." He glanced up, his eyes tracing the sky. "There's even places that have entirely different stars than here- and once, I found a lake so large and still that I stared at it for hours trying to tell if I was looking up or down."

"That sounds quite scary, actually."

"It's not!" Snufkin wanted to take the time to be affronted on behalf of the lake, but once he started talking, he found it difficult to stop. "In some places, people erect piles of stones in the shape of people. Some of them are huge, and if you followed where they pointed, you'd come across a road or a village, or something else entirely!" He smiled, looking out at the setting sun, which crept lower and lower into the purpling horizon. "The world just... keeps going, too. I tried to keep a map once, but there's just too much there to keep track of. I'm quite sure it goes on forever."

Snorkmaiden frowned. "Surely it can't. There must be an end to it somewhere."

"You wouldn’t think so just by looking," Snufkin sighed. "I do hope it goes on forever. I don’t ever want to have seen it all."

Snorkmaiden studied him carefully. He could tell she was considering her next words carefully. "Why do you come back here, then?"

"What do you mean?" The question had been innocuous, but Snufkin's answer contained a bite that Snorkmaiden had certainly noticed.

"If the world is so big and wonderful and quite as large as you say it is," she said, speaking like she very much didn’t want to ask at all, "then why do you keep coming back to Moominvalley? Surely there's more places out there than can be seen one winter at a time."

Snufkin placed a stick on the fire and frowned. "Moominvalley is beautiful," he began, somewhat hollowly. It was the truth, to be sure, but something pricked at the back of his mind that he did not recognize. Whatever it was, it was old and heavy, and it felt rather uncomfortable to look at- so instead of looking harder, he ignored it and said, "The world isn't there for me to see it, Snorkmaiden. It’s simply _there_. Perhaps one day, I will go see it all. Just… not today.”

That felt closer to the truth, but the ugly thought hiding in his mind buzzed faintly now that he'd taken notice of it. Snorkmaiden looked at him with a very sad sort of look, but Snufkin ignored that, too, lapsing into thoughts he rather didn’t enjoy.

 _I'm quite the hypocrite,_ he decided. _'Know one’s own mind' indeed._ His thoughts were getting rather louder than were good for him, so he retrieved his harmonica and played for a while, his songs dipping dangerously close to minor keys. As he played, he busied himself with plans for the morrow, being careful to tiptoe where thoughts of Moomin and the valley lay.

 _That's quite enough introspection for one day_ , he thought tiredly.

When they turned in, Snufkin insisted that Snorkmaiden take the tent- he felt quite uneasy, and a night spent under the stars surely would do him a world of good. Snorkmaiden hardly complained, at any rate.

He was so caught up, that by the time he had tucked into his bedroll, he realized he had still not eaten. His stomach groaned loudly, and he curled up on his side, hoping that Snorkmaiden hadn’t noticed. Luckily, the tent did not stir.

Controlling his breathing, Snufkin held his stomach, closed his eyes, and hoped that tomorrow would treat him better.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A list of Snufkin's 'affable curses':  
> -Fiddlesticks  
> -Cripes  
> -Drat  
> -Jiminy Cricket  
> -Fuck


	4. In which there is a very rainy day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one's a long one, so apologies in advance if there's any formatting or grammar issues I still need to iron out. If you notice anything, don't hesitate to point it out!

 

Snufkin woke the next morning to a drop of rain falling on the tip of his nose.

He sat up with a start, shaking off the dream that had claimed him in the night. It had been something quite unpleasant, full of dark corners, a horrible sense of loneliness, and letter boxes without any mail.

His sleeping roll was damp, and it stuck to his legs uncomfortably as he extricated himself from it. The fire had gone out long ago, and the smell of wet wood-smoke made his stomach turn. He rubbed his eyes with a lethargic groan, trying to right himself. _It's Spring_ , he reminded himself, casting off the lingering threads of sleep. _November is long past and far ahead._

Snufkin rolled his bed up, grimacing at the wet squish it made as he did. His tent had fared far better, the tar-coated fabric having shed the moisture admirably. As he dismantled the camp, the rain beat a harder _tap tap tap_ on the taught roof of the tent. Above him, the clouds were dark and heavy, stretching into the horizon like a wet blanket. Sighing, he donned his hat and went to wake Snorkmaiden. They would have to move quickly of they were to find any sort of respite from the coming storm.

"Snorkmaiden," he said, flicking the outside of the tent impatiently. "Wake up."

From inside, a groan came that could have been acknowledgement, though it might just as easily have been the spurned wails of the damned.

"It's raining," Snufkin said, a little louder. "I'm getting wet out here. Come out."

The buttons of the tent opened (Snufkin never trusted zippers since the Joxter had told him of his great-Grandfather's fate). Snorkmaiden poked her head out of the opening, blinking blearily at up at him. "Raining, you say?" She looked around. "Not in here it isn't. You could just as easily come in, you know."

Snufkin raised an eyebrow at being invited into his own tent, but instead of commenting on such, he flicked a bit of water at her snout. "Moomin's not in there, is he? Your hair is atrocious, by the by."

"Well good morning to you too, then," Snorkmaiden shot back, scrunching her nose. Still, she left the tent, flattening her curls out as best she could on the way. "We shouldn't have left in such a hurry," she grumped. "I've forgotten my hand-mirror."

Amusedly, Snufkin could think of about a dozen things they would have brought before her mirror, but he didn’t say so. They took down the tent, packing it carefully so as to keep it clear of pine-needles and rocks that would damage the outside. When it was done, Snorkmaiden slid it into Snufkin's backpack, and they began to walk, headed slowly uphill.

They ate as they walked, plain apples that Snufkin had picked a few days prior to entering Moominvalley. They were tart, and just a little bit unripe, but Snufkin devoured his with gusto. Snorkmaiden asked for his knife, and cut neat slices off hers. They made light conversation about nothing at all, really, and despite the rain and the reason for their venture, Snufkin found his mood rising.

The weather on the other hand, only fouled further.

By the time they reached the trail that would lead up the mountain, the rain had turned cold and heavy, driving the mist from the sky as thick droplets took its place. Snufkin's hat kept the worst off him, but Snorkmaiden had to prop a hand underneath her fringe just to keep her sodden hair out of her eyes. The mud grew deeper with every step, and their conversation became partially drowned by the trilling of wind through the woods.

"I should have stayed in the tent!" Complained Snorkmaiden over the creaking of the willows and the driving of rain.

"If you had," Snufkin shouted back, "you'd have been swept away by the gale!"

Snorkmaiden said something back that Snufkin could not make out, and he shrugged exaggeratedly. She huffed, and tried again. "I'm soaked! We should go back to Moominhouse! It's not so far!"

Snufkin shook his head, spraying water from the brim of his hat. "There's a cave not so far from here that we can stay in until the storm quiets down!"

Snorkmaiden looked as if she'd only heard bits of that, but she nodded begrudgingly. After that, they walked in silence, save for the nattering of the storm.

They passed into a grove of thick-boughed spruce which caught the rain and wind like a hundred green umbrellas. They rested there a while in the limited shelter, while Snufkin dug into his pack.

"What are you looking for?" Said Snorkmaiden, who looked quite miserable. What little of her fur which hadn’t been soaked was frizzy with moisture, and she dripped so badly that she stood in a puddle before long. "I'm quite anxious to get to this cave of yours. I don’t fancy being out here for much longer."

Snufkin nodded, continuing to dig. "It's not much farther," he said, not quite knowing it to be true. He hadn't been to the cave for quite some time, and he wasn’t sure he could find it very easily even in good weather, let alone this downpour. But they had to try- it could get dangerous out here in a hurry, and though a piece of him agreed that they should retreat to Moominhouse, the smarter part of him argued that they would not make as good time as they had yesterday.

He pulled a large square of yellow plastic free from the bag, holding it up in triumph. "Here," he said proudly, handing it to Snorkmaiden.

She took it, and Snufkin noticed with apprehension that she shivered as she did. "What is it?" She said confusedly, turning it back and forth.

Snufkin took a corner and unfolded it for her. "I bought it while travelling this winter," he explained. "It should keep the rain off!" He pointed at it. "Put your head through that bit!"

She did. The bright plastic fell across her shoulders and half-way down her back. It did not fit quite right, but Snorkmaiden flipped the hood up all the same, smiling.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, playing with the hem idly. "How does it look?"

 _Ludicrous_ , thought Snufkin. "Very practical."

Snorkmaiden pouted. "'Very practical' indeed. I look like a bag."

"A dry bag," he said, diplomatically. "If we stick to the trail, we should hit a stream. After that, we'll have to keep close to the slope."

They each took a breath, then drove back into the rain, determined, and just a bit more prepared than before. The path wound up and up, becoming less mud and more stone as they went. They ascended slowly, and after a time, left the trees behind.

Without the woods to act as a barrier, they were hit all at once with the full brunt of the storm. Snufkin kept his head down, powering onward. His boots were slick with mud and his socks squelched with every step.

Suddenly, Snufkin's foot splashed down into a rushing puddle, and he looked up, his face paling.

Where before there had been a stream bisecting the trail, there was now a raging torrent, near five meters wide. The rotting log that had long served as a bridge dangled precariously from its resting place, its roots barely hanging on to the eroding embankment. Snufkin looked across it forlornly, to where the path continued to climb. He could imagine the cave, sitting just around the next bend, waiting for them.

"I'm not crossing that," Snorkmaiden said, her poncho fluttering loudly.

"Me neither," Snufkin replied dourly. _It’d be foolish to try._

"Should we go back?" Asked Snorkmaiden just a bit hopefully. Snufkin considered it this time. The cave was somewhere close, he knew. This place was very familiar. But the prospect of crossing the stream seemed unwise at best, and outright stupid at worst. He almost turned around right there, but a sudden thought came to him: what if Moomin were on the other side? He'd be trapped on the mountain until the storm dies down. And who knows how long that may be.

Snufkin looked around. A large boulder, tall and rounded by wind and weather stood next to the cliff face. On the other side, a stump rose from a shelf of blackened stone, a victim of a lightning strike. Snufkin made up his mind.

"Here, help me," he shouted, pulling a long, coiled rope out from his pack. Snorkmaiden looked doubtful, but did as he asked, and together they tied the rope tightly around the boulder.

"Hold this part!" He said, pointing to the slack bit he'd left at the base. "If I slip, you'll have to pull me in!"

Snorkmaiden shook her head. "I don’t think we should do this," she said, casting a worried glance at the stream. "I'm not sure I'll be able to..."

"Of course you will!" Said Snufkin with certainty. "Once I'm on the other side, I'll tie the other end to that stump, and you'll be able to guide yourself across!" He thought for a moment. "Its not very deep, but it's fast, so as long as we go slowly, we'll be okay."

When Snorkmaiden still looked unsure, he smiled at her and said, "Trust me, you'll be fine."

Snorkmaiden looked at him, then up the path. Snufkin wasn’t sure, but he thought she might be thinking the same things he'd just thought. Finally, she nodded.

"Okay," she assented, a determined look settling over her. "Be very careful."

Snufkin nodded and took the loose end of the rope in his hand. Snorkmaiden helped him tie it around his waist, then ran quickly back to her place by the boulder, looking just a bit scared. Snufkin took a breath, then removed his boots and socks- he didn’t want them sliding around on the stones.

Turning to Snorkmaiden, he gave a thumbs-up, and waded into the stream.

It was deeper than he'd expected, though not by much. The rushing water came up past his shin, soaking his pants and the hem of his coat. It was cold too, cold enough that he let out a small gasp as he felt numbness set in. Holding his boots in one hand, and the rope in the other, he grit his teeth and waded across.

It was slow going, and once, a stone turned under his heel and sent him stumbling. He regained his balance, his heart pounding, and placed his next steps oh so carefully. Before long, he emerged on the other side, just a bit more wet than he'd wanted. _Not drowned though_ , he thought proudly. _Or swept off the side_.

He waved at Snorkmaiden, who waved back enthusiastically. Then, he tied off his end of the rope and stood at the edge of the stream, watching Snorkmaiden carefully.

Despite her nervousness, her steps were slow and sure. He could see her fingers tightening around the rope in a death grip, and as she neared, he could see her wide, frightened eyes watching the flowing water beneath her with desperate concentration. The icy water pulled at her ankles and the wind blew her poncho behind her like a crinkly cape, but Snorkmaiden stepped closer and closer until she emerged onto the other side with visible relief.

"Well then," she said with chattering teeth. "I'll not do that again so long as I live."

Snufkin laughed. "I told you we'd be fine."

Snorkmaiden looked a little less jovial. Her paw still gripped the rope like her life depended on it. Gently, Snufkin reached over and loosened her fingers. Once she'd released the rope, she clutched his hand tight, then threw her arms around him.

"I'm quite serious, you know," she said, still hugging him. "Not ever again."

"We'll have to cross back over on the way down," said Snufkin, a little surprised. "It'll be better when the rain stops, though."

Snorkmaiden squeezed him, then backed away, flexing her fingers stiffly. "That was quite horrifying," she said plainly. "And your cave had better be close by, or I swear, you'll be carrying me back across."

They couldn't take the rope, as it was tied on the other side, so they left it. The bend in the trail revealed naught but more trail, and they were both starting to shiver quite badly. Snufkin felt clammy and damp all over, trying to wiggle some feeling back into his toes as they walked.

As they ascended, the trail thinned, and the rain fell so hard that for a moment Snufkin was afraid they might be washed over the edge after all. The wind whipped curtains of water off the shear, stony face of the cliffs, and Snufkin was thankful that they could get no wetter than they already were. He could feel his fingers growing numb, while the icy rain drove daggers into his face and neck. With one hand kept firmly atop his hat, he fumbled his way along the goat-trail, hearing Snorkmaiden still following close behind him.

It took almost an hour for the storm to calm, and Snufkin was supremely grateful that it lasted only as long as it did. By the time it let out into a quiet drizzle, the two were shivering and dripping and quite thoroughly miserable. Their brief victory over the stream seemed just a little hollow.

The trail turned from winding road to rocky scramble, and they were forced to stop more than once to catch their breath before they reached a flat stretch. The absence of the storm made the world seem muted, and each ragged breath sounded loud as thunder.

"Snufkin-" called Snorkmaiden after a while. "I need to stop again." She sounded a little strained, and just as tired as Snufkin felt.

They sat together on an outcropping of stone that reached out from the path like a grey, crooked finger. It was wet, but neither of them cared, nor did it really matter. As they sat, the rain cleared further, and they could see the tops of trees far below them, poking meekly through the mist.

"We should have just stayed at Moominhouse," Snorkmaiden said miserably, trying to twist her hair dry. It was too short though, and she wasn’t having much luck. "I'm not cut out for this kind of adventure."

"Not everyone is," said Snufkin idly. The sky was still grey, but it had lightened rather significantly from that morning. "You're doing quite well, though."

For some reason, her eyes narrowed at that. "I'm not," she insisted, gesturing at her sodden fur. "I'm wet and tired and my feet hurt. And I'm cold, too."

They sat in silence for a minute longer before Snorkmaiden asked tiredly, "How much further is this cave of yours?"

"Close," he said, surer of himself this time. Snorkmaiden looked less convinced.

"What if it's not?" She challenged, looking at him closely. "That’s what you said before we crossed the stream."

"Yes," Snufkin admitted, "but it can’t be far now. We're close to the summit. It must be somewhere here."

"What if we passed it already?" She looked down at the trees far below them. "And you said it yourself, we don’t even know if Moomin is up here at all!"

Snufkin thought about that. "Well," he said, frowning, "we followed their tracks as far as we could, and where else would they go?"

Snorkmaiden threw up her hands. "Anywhere? In all of Moominvalley?" She looked at him pointedly. " _Moominhouse_ would be my guess. They probably turned around, and that's why there's no more tracks!"

Snufkin shook his head stubbornly. "And what if they didn’t?"

"Then the storm would have turned them back!" Exclaimed Snorkmaiden loudly. "I swear, Snufkin, you're not yourself."

Snufkin winced. He nearly interjected, but Snorkmaiden forged on, counting off her fingers. "You're acting reckless, you're quite irritable, and you're all wrapped up in your own head!"

"I'm not acting 'reckless'!" Snufkin retorted, not bothering to deny the other two. He turned up his nose. "I'm only acting as Moomin would for me."

"Really, now?" Snorkmaiden was turning greener by the minute, a miserable pallor he'd ever seen one. "Because the last time I checked, Moomin hardly goes scouring the countryside just because you disappear for a day or two."

Snufkin's hackles rose. "Moomin knows I'll always come back."

Snorkmaiden sighed quietly. "He's quite good at waiting for you. He's had a lot of practise."

Snufkin didn’t know how to take that. His head was pounding, and he felt a familiar pit start to grow in his stomach.

Snorkmaiden fidgeted with the hem of the poncho while Snufkin scrabbled for words.

"I-" he started, his throat tight. He coughed into his arm. The wind was picking up again, but his breaths still seemed far too loud.

"Snufkin?" Snorkmaiden asked in a slow, sad sort of way. He grunted acknowledgement, not trusting his voice to be steady as he wished. Snorkmaiden looked at him guiltily. "He shouldn't have been alone. This winter, I mean. He would have had Little My, but she was off. Visiting home, I think."

He turned his head away from her, his chest constricting. Distractedly, he wiped his face on his sleeve. It came away wet. _Of course it did,_ he thought to himself dimly. _It’s been raining._  "Why weren't you with him?" he managed to choke out.

Snorkmaiden’s face crumpled like a tin can. "Because I'm not the one he wanted there, Snufkin."

Frustration flooded him, and for a moment, he was glad to feel something other than guilt. "You said he was alone for months!" His face felt hot, his jaw clenched tightly. "Any company would have been better than none, surely."

"I don't want to be just 'any company', Snufkin!" Her eyes were wet, and wouldn’t meet his. She struggled with her thoughts before continuing: "I don't want to be with him and have the only one he talks about to be _you_. To have the only one he writes _poetry_ about to be you. I... It hurts, Snufkin.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. “And I don’t know how I'm supposed to feel."

Snufkin had gone pale, staring at Snorkmaiden with a stricken expression. His mind had ground to a halt, and his anger left him, just like that. Snorkmaiden continued, her voice halting and on the verge of tears.

"It breaks my heart. And then-" she looked up at him sharply. "And then you... you..." she struggled to find the words. "You _leave_ him and go off on your merry while-" she let out a short, angry sound.

Snufkin wanted the storm back- anything but the tense air that stood between them now. In his mind, the mailbox stood, surrounded by red leaves.

"Not everyone is like you, Snufkin." Snorkmaiden said, finally. She sounded very tired. "Not everyone can just... go around like you can, wandering where you will and not caring about who you leave behind."

Snufkin looked back down at the trees, very far below. It hurt, hearing the words come from someone else; it was as if she had reached into his heart and found where his old scabs had settled. But the worst part about it, the part that hurt many times worse than any long-supressed word or shift of blame, was just how _familiar_ the barbs sounded. These were words that spun in his head before he went to sleep, words he muttered in ill moods over his breakfast in the mornings, ones he heard very quietly each time Moomin asked him if he could just come with him this time, or if he would only stay, just this once.

 _You don’t care_ , they whispered, when he let them rise to the fore. _You leave them behind because you're scared, you're a coward, and you're not worth their time_. _If you had any shred of decency, you'd stop stringing him along and leave for good._ It might be better that way.

A hand touched his shoulder gently, but he made no move to acknowledge it. Distantly, he could hear Snorkmaiden ask a question, but he gave her no mind. His thoughts were all together too loud now, and it was all he could do to clench his hands into fists and try not to shake.

 _You've not learned anything, have you?_ This voice sounded different. Less cruel. Tired. _You can't keep doing this. You-_

Suddenly, he felt soft, furry arms wrap around him. Without meaning to, he leaned into them gladly, blinking hard. His hat was knocked askew, but he made no move to fix it. He only stared down at the treetops and breathed slowly to the rhythm of the chest pressed against his shoulder.

They stayed like that for a time as Snufkin's heart settled and the rain made a slow, drizzling return. Finally, as if surfacing from a dream, Snufkin remembered how to breathe.

All at once, the sounds of Moominvalley came back to him. His thoughts became quiet again, and the rustling of trees and the falling of rain filled his ears with their blessed white noise. Beside him, Snorkmaiden had her arms wrapped around him, and was rocking back and forth gently, humming tunelessly.

Sniffling, Snufkin reached up awkwardly and adjusted his hat back to where it ought to be, startling her. Immediately, she let go, leaning away and placing her hands in her lap.

"Snufkin," she said in a watery voice, staring at her paws. "Oh, Snufkin, I..." he said nothing. Snufkin breathed deeply and began to loosen his grip from the hem of his coat. He felt very calm. "I'm sorry," Snorkmaiden continued. "Oh, that was all so stupid of me, Snufkin. I didn't mean any of it, I only..."

Snufkin flexed his fingers and sighed. "We should get moving before the storm comes around," he said. Snorkmaiden fidgeted, not looking at him. With a grunt, Snufkin rose to his feet, feeling his muscles ache in protest. He offered Snorkmaiden a hand up, and she took it, still avoiding his eyes.

"I shouldn't have said any of that," Snorkmaiden said mournfully, hanging onto his hand for a second more. Before she let go, she looked him in the eye and said, "That wasn't fair of me. I'm sorry, Snufkin."

He nodded, and let go. They set off without another word, the air hanging heavy between them. Snufkin focused on the crunch of loose stone, the pattering of rain, and the distant bellows of thunder to busy his mind, breathing deep the smell of wet iron. As they rounded a corner, something clicked, and Snufkin smiled.

"We're almost there," he called back. Snorkmaiden didn’t reply, but he heard her steps match time with his as he sped up. On the way, he bent down to pick up old sticks and dead shrubbery that clung to the mountain: they would need a fire, or they'd both catch colds.

At long last, there it was. From their approach, it hardly looked like much of anything- a small recess on the side of the trail barred with three crooked stone pillars, hung heavy with moss and old-man's-beard. But he recognized it all the same.

Snufkin shouldered his way past the spires sighing as the sounds of rain became muted by the stone. Inside, it was dark as the mouth of some great beast, but at that moment, Snufkin would rather have walked into a Booble's maw than be rained on any longer. He fumbled around in the dark until he found a wall, then dropped his pack to the floor. His shoulders ached and he stretched gladly, feeling his spine pop in a dozen places.

Snorkmaiden entered behind him, dropping her pile of sticks. Out of the corner of his eye, Snufkin watched her gaze out the cave's opening into the weather. It was beginning to pick up again, Snufkin saw. _We've made it just in time._

Not wasting a minute, Snufkin felt his way across the moss-covered floor and cleared a spot for a fire. From his pack, he retrieved a flint striker, a tight-packed ball of lint, and a small, glass jar with a stopper.

"What's that?" Wondered Snorkmaiden, pointing at the jar. Smiling, Snufkin shook out its contents, then held it up for her to see.

"Birch bark," he explained, arranging a few squares on the ground. "And some twigs too. Any traveller worth his salt always carries dry tinder."

In no time at all, a small fire was brewing between them, and Snufkin had Snorkmaiden begin to dry their haul of branches and brambles. "Too much smoke in a cave can be dangerous," he explained as he unpacked a roll of bread and his coffee grounds.

They fed the fire, then themselves as they waited for water to boil. Snorkmaiden ate her share of bread glumly as she took in the cave in the growing light of the fire. Snufkin, for lack of anything better to do, and not wanting to talk, did the same.

It wasn't very deep, but the ceiling was high, and the ground was sloped slightly downwards toward the opening. The moss that dripped off the stone pillars standing in the entrance fed all the way to the back wall, creating a soft, green rug. It was a bit murky despite the fire, but Snufkin quite liked this spot- he and Moomin had been here years before, on their way to Lonely Mountain's summit. The cave felt cozy and warm, and most importantly, dry.

Wordlessly, he poured them both coffee. She nodded and took the mug gratefully, cradling it in her lap, trying to warm her paws against the hot ceramic.  

"You were right," she said, staring at their campfire. Snufkin raised an eyebrow. "About the cave."

He nodded, sipping his coffee. "You were right, too," he said quietly.

Snorkmaiden looked lost for a moment, then sighed. "No," she said. "You need time for yourself, Snufkin. I know that. Moomin does too. I was the one who knew he would wake up. I should have been there."

The fire popped. Snufkin considered that. "Why weren't you?" He asked, not unkindly.

Snorkmaiden looked miserable. "We had a row," she muttered, rubbing her mug. "I didn't think he wanted me there."

Snufkin blinked. "You and Moomin argued? What on earth about?"

Snorkmaiden looked very guilty just then. "Something very silly," she said reluctantly. "It doesn’t matter."

Something occurred to Snufkin then, and he frowned into his mug. "It was about me, wasn’t it?"

Snorkmaiden smiled, but there was little humour behind it. "That's quite presumptive of you, don’t you think?" Her face told him the truth, though.

 _They're falling out because of you_ , he told himself acidly. His coffee tasted watery and bitter. _You shouldn't have come back._

They shared a pregnant silence for a minute, before Snorkmaiden broke it, sounding close to tears.

"I'm glad you're here," she said, as if she could read his mind. "And I know you care, in your own way. It was thoughtless of me to say what I did. I really am sorry, Snufkin."

Snufkin stared blankly into his mug. _Don't be_ , he wanted to say. _You're right to say it_. Instead, he rifled through his pack, and brought out a tightly rolled blanket, which miraculously had kept fairly dry. He handed it to Snorkmaiden in lieu of an answer, and she accepted it, hanging it over her shoulders and drying her eyes on a corner.

"What about you?" She asked, gesturing to his wet clothes. He raised his coffee and took a sip. They lapsed again into silence. Snufkin was glad for it- arguing was so very taxing, and he was loathe to fall back into it. Outside, the rain worsened, and the thunder from earlier rolled closer, calling its rumbling roar to any who could hear it.

Snufkin hoped that Moomin had found somewhere to shelter out the storm, wherever he was. The rain fell steady as the sun set, and the thunder grumbled angrily, closer still than before. He fed the fire, then set up a wire drying rack for his things.

Snufkin took a deep breath. _It's going to be okay_ , he told himself firmly. _Worry is for tomorrow, now_.

"You don’t really think I'm shrill, do you?" Asked Snorkmaiden, rubbing her elbows glumly.

The abruptness of the question brought a wan smile to his face. The part of Snufkin that remembered their argument yesterday whispered for him to tell her _yes_ , but he quashed it down. It wouldn't be the truth anyhow. "No," he said simply. "Your voice is quite lovely."

Snorkmaiden stopped fidgeting, and smiled at him. All of a sudden, Snufkin was very aware of just how raggedy he must have looked. His winter travels had proved taxing, and his clothes and pack were well and truly worn. He hadn't had a chance to mend anything before they had set out again, either, which hadn't helped things. He swirled his coffee sullenly, trying not to wonder why he suddenly cared so much.

"It's very quiet here," Snorkmaiden said abruptly, almost startling Snufkin. She was right- besides their lowered voices, the only thing making sound was the fire between them, and the slight drizzling of rain outside. He glanced at his companion, and away just as quickly. Spring was off to a strange start.

"Could you teach me?" Snorkmaiden said after a time. Her words were halting, as if she didn't quite want them to come. She gestured to his bag. "The harmonica, I mean. I've been meaning to learn, but..."

Snufkin blinked in surprise. He set his half-finished mug at his feet as a way to buy himself more time to answer.

"I'm... not the best teacher," he decided on finally. "I could play something though, if you like?"

Snorkmaiden looked around, then nodded. "Please, do. Something happy?"

"Sure."

The harmonica was chill to the touch, and felt far heavier than it usually did. For a moment, he was at a loss for what to play- his spring tune felt very distant for him now, and in truth, he knew very few songs to begin with.

It was the thought of Moomin which -as it often did- brought him out of his stupor. He played tentatively at first, slow enough that Snorkmaiden didn't quite know what to make of it.

Soon, the pace sped up, and the familiar strains of 'All Small Beasts Should Have Bows In Their Tails' emerged, bouncing off the walls of the cave quite pleasantly.

After a time, Snorkmaiden began to hum along quietly, as if not wanting to be heard after all. Despite himself, Snufkin played just a little bit quieter, so he could better hear her singing.

 _Not so shrill_ , he thought, humorously, as they sat in the new mood the music had brought. _If Moomin were here, we could make a proper band._

As the harmonica warmed in his hands, he felt a heavy piece of himself float away with the notes. It might well be back come morning, he knew- but in that moment, in a dry cave in a very rainy world, Snufkin felt glad for its absence.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got... a lot of feelings about Snufkin's headspace and how he deals with his issues. I don't think change comes very easily to him, and I think he might self-sabotage his own growth at times. He may have commitment issues (thanks Joxter) but he also really does need his time alone... for being such a simple dude, he's plenty complicated, and it makes for a really interesting character to work with! This is the most angsty this story gets btw, and I hope it wasn't too much.
> 
> As always, feedback is greatly appreciated. Sometimes I feel like I'm just writing into the void, and a quick comment can go a long way in making me feel like that's not the case. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and I'll see you next week!


	5. In which there is a reunion, a strange box, and a shaggy-dog story

 

The morning rose slowly as Snufkin watched, the sun creeping furtively between the craggy fingers of rock that stood guard at the front of the cave. The rain had stopped sometime in the night, but despite the sudden quiet, he had found he could not sleep. Instead, he stayed awake, listening to his companion’s snores and watching the mist slowly dissipate with the dawn.

His hat and coat had been well and truly soaked by the time they had entered the cave. The wet cloth bothered him more than it ought to, but all the same, he waited until Snorkmaiden had fallen asleep to doff his outer layers and hang them out over their paltry fire. Surprisingly, the embers had lasted through ‘til the morning, and Snufkin spent a few dreary hours warming his stiff fingers over the tiny blaze.

_Time to stop acting foolish, I think,_ he mused as he watched a streak of sun pass molasses-slow along the wall of the cave. _It is past time to turn back. The trail is long gone, and there is little point wandering in circles looking for someone who could be anywhere._ He knew it would be the right decision, though the thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Rousing himself, he padded quietly outside, breathing in the copper scent of old rain while he gathered sticks for the fire. He wanted a warm drink before they started moving, and he still had a half-tin of coffee grounds somewhere with his things.

He returned to find Snorkmaiden in a vague state of wakefulness, digging blearily through his pack. She froze as he approached, as if caught doing something she shouldn’t, but relaxed when she saw his bundle of kindling. "Have we got any apples left?" She asked groggily. "We could add them to oats and have a proper breakfast for once."

Snufkin mumbled something that was hardly coherent, sitting back down by the fire more tiredly than he'd expected. He shivered as he fed the embers, blowing gently until it began to crackle. Across from him, Snorkmaiden had ignored his disinterest and found what she was looking for with a hum of delight, setting two apples down next to their bag of oats.

"I used to hate apples," Snorkmaiden told, though he was only half listening. "When Snork and I were little, we lived in a crab-apple orchard for a time. It was all we ate, day in, day out." She made a face. "Nasty things. Much too bitter for my taste."

Snufkin nodded agreeably. "They’re better in jams," he said, feeding his last stick to the fire.

"Only Moominmamma can make something that bitter taste good," she said, sticking her tongue out. "I prefer blackberry preserves. Did you know I'd never had a blackberry before coming to Moominvalley? I liked them so much that Moomin and I scoured the whole valley looking for a patch." She busied herself with setting a pot to boil, though Snufkin noticed she looked a little sad.

"Did you find any?" He asked. She looked up from the pot and was about to answer when she bolted to her feet, pointing at his chest.

"Snufkin!" She exclaimed, looking far more awake than she had moments ago. "You never told me you were hurt!"

Snufkin looked down at himself stupidly, expecting to see a bruise or blood, but all he saw were the somewhat soiled cloth strips wrapped diligently around his chest. It took him a moment to realize what Snorkmaiden meant, and when he did, he flushed red.

"Oh," he said, feeling very self-conscious all of a sudden. "That's just... that's nothing."

Snorkmaiden looked unconvinced. "When did it happen? Did you hurt yourself on your travels?" Without letting him answer, she slapped her forehead and cursed. "Here I am complaining about _crab-apples_ of all things while you're injured! Let me have a look."

"No!" It came out more forceful than he'd wanted, but the thought of being touched had set his skin to crawling. It was bad enough that he'd been so careless in the first place, and her confused expression only made his flush worsen. "No," he tried again, more calmly this time. "It's fine, Snorkmaiden. Really."

He got to his feet, shuffling around the fire to get at his coat which was hanging dutifully on the rack where he'd left it. It was still damp, but he forced it over his head stubbornly, trying to ignore the gooseflesh that ran down his arms as he did.

"You have a first-aid kit, surely," Snorkmaiden said gently. The offer was well-meaning, but her insistence bothered him. "It wouldn't be any trouble, really."

"Snorkmaiden," he said flatly, snatching his hat as well. She seemed to understand him then, though she didn’t seem happy about it. She cast him furtive glances as she stirred the oats into the pot, and Snufkin did his utmost to ignore them.

Thankfully, his hat had fared better than the rest of his clothes, and was nearly dry- just having it back on his head was improving his mood. He dug through his pack for his coffee, taking two sets of tableware out once he'd found it. Their breakfast was warm and filling, and the apples had been perfectly crisp, if slightly bruised. They ate in relative silence, listening to the crackle of the fire and the slow bubbling of the coffee as it prepared.

When they were done, Snufkin sighed and said, "I don’t think they came this way," in a reluctant voice.

Snorkmaiden bit into an apple and considered that. "Probably not," she allowed, chewing thoughtfully. "It was worth a try, though."

Snufkin studied her. "Was it?" He asked, feeling doubtful. He offered her his water skin, and she took it readily. "I'm afraid you may have been right. About a few things, at least."

She didn’t push the statement, choosing instead to take a long, pensive drink. Gathering his words, Snufkin continued: "I haven't been myself. I've been acting the fool. This whole trip was folly, and I'm sorry I dragged you along."

Snorkmaiden smiled at him lightly, passing the skin back over the fire. "Maybe so," she said, gathering up their sleeping bags. "But I'm not sorry I came. I want to find Moomin as much as you do, and if it takes a soggy sabbatical up a mountain to do that, then it would be time well-spent." She cocked her head. "Mostly. I could have done without the rain."

He smiled at that. "And the arguing?"

She scoffed. "You never know someone quite so well as when you argue with them," she said sagely.

"I’m quite sure that’s nonsense."

"Not according to Snork,” She looked across at him, her grin dipping slightly. "I'm sorry too, you know. I've been a boor this whole trip."

"Nonsense."

She shot him a flat look. "Please take the apology, Snufkin."

He nodded with a smile and set about packing his rucksack. He tossed the poncho in last, just in case they needed it again, and the two stepped out into the morning heat, breathing deeply.

It was much brighter outside, both travellers squinting peevishly at their surroundings in an attempt to gain their bearings. It had been difficult to tell where exactly they’d ended up, but with the weather cleared, Snufkin could see the valley laid out beneath them like a patchwork quilt writ large. _It's quite humbling_ , he thought as they approached an overlook. _To see how small we are._

The overlook was comprised of a shelf of shale, dotted with green shrubs and pools of stagnant rainwater. Standing atop the lip and looking out over the valley, Snufkin took his first real breath in what felt like ages.

The green and blue fresco stretched out to the sea, a verdant spread that made Snufkin's heart swell with a sense of peaceful familiarity. If he squinted, Snufkin could just make out the white ring of sand that bordered the ocean. He followed a winding yarn of river to the red top of Moominhouse that poked cheerily from the vast greenery- and to something else that made him halt. He squinted harder, tapping Snorkmaiden on the arm.

"Look," he said, pointing toward the house. "Is that...?"

Snorkmaiden shielded her eyes from the sun and squinted. Then she nodded. "Indeed it is," she said in a cheery sort of way. "I may throw a fit."

A thin column of smoke rose from the roof of Moominhouse, trickling serenely into the cloudless sky. Snufkin felt his face grow red, and he tugged at the brim of his hat.

"Do you think..." he started bemusedly.

"Who else would it be?" Snorkmaiden snorted with laughter. "My brother will be at home, the Hemulen wouldn't just invite himself in, and I'm fairly certain Sniff doesn’t know how to start a fire."

"It could be Too-Ticky?" Snufkin supplied weakly. Snorkmaiden raised an eyebrow.

"You know it's not," she said, trying to look angry, and failing. Mostly, she just looked relieved.

"Well then," Snufkin said, rocking on his heels and studying Moominhouse bemusedly. "Are you sorry you came now?"

Snorkmaiden giggled, which turned into a full-on chortle when she saw the guilty look on his face. "Not in the least," she said around the laughter. "Its not a proper sabbatical if it's not a bit pointless."

Snufkin laughed, too. "I would say it's a _sojourn_. More spiritual, that way."

She pushed him playfully, and they turned from the overlook to start heading down back down the mountain. The sun bore down on them with renewed energy, and Snufkin soon felt the wetness of his clothes evaporating away. The ozone scent of rain followed them down the mountain path, but the sky remained clear and blue.

"Suppose it's not them," Snufkin speculated as they descended.

"Look me in the eyes and tell me who you think it is," Snorkmaiden countered, grinning.

He thought for a moment. "Joxter, could be," he said at last. He hadn't seen his father in years, and he found himself rather hoping it was.

"Can't be, we left the door wide open."

"Federal police, then," he said rather seriously. "They've finally figured out where I've been hiding all these years."

Snorkmaiden giggled. "They've had enough of you terrorizing the local authorities, I suppose."

"'Authorities'," scoffed Snufkin. "Milksops, the lot of them. They couldn't police their way out of a plastic bag."

Snorkmaiden put a hand to her chest in mock-pride. "We, on the other hand," she said pompously. "Make rather stellar detectives."

"I'll thank you not to liken me to any authorities," Snufkin said, haughtily. "Besides, it took us all of three days to surmise where our quarry may be hiding!"

"His own house!" Snorkmaiden finished proudly, before doubling over with laughter. Snufkin joined her, glad to be found in high spirits. It made the walk back down the trail much easier, if  nothing else.

They talked as they went, about this and that. Snorkmaiden asked about the rock statues Snufkin had mentioned before and he asked about the goings-on of the valley- who'd gotten into what troubles and how they'd gotten out. Aunt Jane had come calling, apparently, and had stayed all of two days before becoming disillusioned with country life. _The bat._ When they came across the rocky scramble, the conversation slowed- neither one wanted to turn an ankle on the return trip, thank you very much.

"Where was this crab-apple orchard of yours?" Snufkin asked as they descended carefully.

Snorkmaiden opened her mouth, then closed it. "You know," she said, contemplatively, "I'm not entirely sure. Somewhere south of here, I'm sure. I was very little, so I don’t remember much, aside from the taste." She stuck out her tongue exaggeratedly.

"I always assumed you grew up in a mansion of some sort. A castle, perhaps. "

"Oh, we did!" Snorkmaiden looked pleased. "Snork and I stowed away once in the ballroom of some grand estate. We slept on the chandelier and danced with the kitchen mice when the owners had parties!"

"Was this before, or after the orchard?" Snufkin wondered, curious.

"Oh, after," she said, sighing dreamily. "I've wanted to go back for ages, now. You've not lived until you've danced to a full ensemble orchestra, you know."

"Well, why haven't you? Gone back, I mean."

"Some people don't take kindly to trespass, Snufkin." She smiled a little sadly. "Snork said it might be dangerous to go back, so we just never did, I suppose."

Snufkin looked at his friend with a growing sense of perspective. "When exactly did you find the time to do all this?"

"Oh, this was well before the comet," she explained. She smirked at him. "You didn’t think Snork and I just grew out of a turnip field, did you?"

"Well, I'm not sure where I thought you came from, exactly," he admitted. "After we met by the observatory, I'd just assumed you lived there, if I'm honest."

"Have you ever heard of a Snork living in an observatory?" Snorkmaiden scoffed. "Come now, Snufkin, don’t be absurd."

"Well, where did you come from then?"

"You're nearly a man grown," she teased. "Don’t tell me you don’t know how little Snorks are made."

He flushed. "Don't be facetious," he said in a long-suffering tone.

"Well then, don't be catty." They walked for a while more before Snufkin realized she hadn’t answered his question.

"So?" He probed, curious now. "Where did you come from?"

The question was harmless, as far as Snufkin knew, which made him all the more interested when Snorkmaiden sniffed at him dismissively.

"South," she answered. "I’ve told you already."

"Yes," he conceded. "But... where south?” A thought struck him, that nearly stopped him in his tracks. "What of your parents?"

Snorkmaiden looked uncomfortable now. "South," she insisted, though she looked unsure. "That's what Snork tells me."

"'What Snork tells you'?" He asked, befuddled. "Don’t you know for yourself?" He'd never considered why the two Snorks had been travelling same as him, let alone the fact that at the time, they had been as much children as he had been.

Snorkmaiden sputtered defensively. "Not everyone knows their parents," she said. "You only met your father after coming to Moominvalley, after all."

The revelation of Snorkmaiden's missing parentage had got him thinking. _She must have some idea_ , he reasoned, before getting an idea of his own.

"Moominpappa might know!" He said suddenly. "If that man somehow managed to accidentally travel with three future parents, he may have come across yours as well!"

Snorkmaiden considered that. "Perhaps," she said, giving him nothing.

"Or," Snufkin prodded, "you could be Sniff's long-lost sister!"

"I'd better not be," she said crossly. "And you'd better not put that into his head, either."

Snufkin was amazed. _It's as if she doesn’t care_ , he marvelled, looking at her, aghast. When he'd found out he'd had a father of his own, and siblings, too, he had been ecstatic! Now, seeing Snorkmaiden shoving off the same opportunity was prone to give him conniptions.

"Surely you want to know?" He asked tentatively.

She stuck her nose in the air proudly. "I've lasted this long without, haven't I?" She said rhetorically. "And besides, Snork and I are perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves."

Snufkin nodded. If that wasn’t a 'please drop it', then he didn’t know what was.

They came to the stream they'd crossed the day before. It had shrunken down to half the size it had been, though the uprooted tree had finally given up the ghost and been washed over the edge. They were both sad to see it go.

Their guide rope was still tied where it had been, but they hardly needed it to cross now. Snufkin took it with him as he went, thinking.

Snufkin longed for a quiet moment on the bridge in front of Moominhouse, with nothing but a fishing rod and an afternoon to himself. He quite enjoyed Snorkmaiden's company, but after an exhausting few days of hiking and dramatics, he was beginning to wear thin- and he could tell Snorkmaiden was, too; her fringe looked like a gold thicket, and despite the newfound spring in her step, he could see just a tinge of green marring her colouration. She was just as eager to return as he was. Possibly more so.

"We should build a bridge to replace the tree," Snorkmaiden was saying. "Like the one near Moominhouse. What do you think, Snufkin?"

"No, I like it the way it is,” he answered distractedly.

No matter his burgeoning fatigue, the mere thought of seeing Moomintroll at long last was a balm to his soul. He’d always felt most content around Moomin for some odd reason, though he'd never quite brought up the courage to speak of it to him.

_That changes this year_ , he promised himself solemnly. _I owe him that much at least._

He'd been meaning to, really. It was just that when it came down to it, he would rather enjoy the simple pleasures of Moomin's company than worry him with questions of their relationship. _I might just make a mess of it,_ he thought. _Better perhaps to never bring it up at all._

He glanced at Snorkmaiden out of the corner of his eye, wondering if she ever felt the same way. She caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow wonderingly.

"What is it?" She asked, rubbing her fringe self-consciously. "Is it my hair again? I fixed it as best I-" she turned with a gasp, startling him. "Snufkin!"

"What?" He said, rather taken aback. A growing look of panic had risen over her as she fumbled about her ears.

"My crown!" She wailed, looking very distraught. "Oh, I knew I had forgotten something, I just knew it!"

"Ah," Snufkin nodded warily. "It's not back in the cave, is it?"

Snorkmaiden's nose scrunched up as she thought. "No," she decided, "no, I must have left it behind when we first made camp... oh, I didn’t even notice it was gone!"

Snufkin breathed a sigh of relief. _At least we don’t have to climb that mountain again,_ he thought amusedly.

"Oh," she opined, kneading her fingers anxiously. "I made that for Moomin, and I went and left it behind!"

Snufkin smiled. "We'll just have to find it then," he consoled, tugging at his hat. "We're headed that way anyhow."

There was little evidence of where they’d camped that first night, but Snufkin knew the spot was right when they found it. They searched for a time, though in truth there was very little to look at in the field.

"Any luck?" He asked, lifting a large leaf to peer under it. "Snorkmaiden?"

She didn't answer. Somewhat perplexed, he turned around to call her name again, but stopped short.

Snorkmaiden was standing stock-still, holding something in her paw, staring down at it with a look of awe.

"Snorkmaiden?"

"Snufkin?" She returned softly, looking over to him. Her eyes were wide, though he could not say why.

Cautiously, he approached to have a look. In her paw was a small wooden box, oiled smooth and worn by long years of care. On its lid was a carving of a plant of some sort, but Snufkin was at a loss for what.

"What is it?" He asked. "It's not your flower crown, for certain.”

"I don't know what it is," she admitted, sounding a bit lost. "It's just... don’t you feel it?"

Snufkin cocked his head. "Feel what?"

She waved the box. " _It!_ This! I found it right where I left the crown, on that stump over there. And look at the lid!"

Snufkin looked. He couldn’t make out the carving before, but now he could see that it was a dandelion with a long, curled stem. He looked a minute more, and his brow creased- it was a carving, for certain... but one so detailed that it looked like someone had taken a real dandelion and cast it into the wood. Curious, he reached out, but Snorkmaiden pulled it back protectively.

"Sorry," Snufkin said in a curious tone. He wasn't sure what it was about the box, but he could tell there was something strange about it. "What is it?"

"I don’t know," Snorkmaiden repeated, turning it in her paws. "There's no latch, or anything!" It was true. As Snufkin watched her inspect it closely, he saw that there weren't any hinges either- nor any features other than the carving. There wasn’t even a seam that he could see, yet all the same he was quite sure it was a box.

"How odd," he mused, stepping away. "Who do you think left it there? And what happened to your crown?" When he received no response, he cleared his throat pointedly.

"Pardon?" Snorkmaiden looked up distractedly.

"I only asked what happened to your crown." He frowned at her. "Are you quite alright?"

"Yes," she said, rubbing the carved dandelion. "Yes, I feel fine. Only..." she floundered for words as Snufkin waited patiently. "You really don't feel it?"

Snufkin scratched his chin. "I'm not sure what it is I'm supposed to be feeling," he admitted.

"It's as if... oh… what's that word for when you feel very happy, but also sad?"

Snufkin thought for a moment. "Melancholy?" He guessed.

"No, that's not it..." Snorkmaiden's paws were turning a strange shade of purple around the box. "I'm not sure either. But it's making my chest feel funny."

"Perhaps you're sick," Snufkin suggested, though he felt that was wrong. "It could be magic?"

"Do you think so?"

"Perhaps." He stared at it, trying to see what Snorkmaiden saw. It was beautiful, to be sure, but it was just a box. "What about your crown?"

"My what?" She looked confused for a moment. "Never mind that. Do you think Alicia would know?"

"Know what?"

"What's inside! Or how to get at it, anyhow."

"How do you know there's anything inside?"

"I just do! Oh, I'm sure she's awake by now!"

"What about Moomin?" Snufkin asked, a bit confused. Snorkmaiden seemed not to notice, and set off suddenly at a brisk pace, leaving Snufkin to scramble after her. “Aren’t we supposed to be looking for him?”

“Well, we know where he is, now,” she said, waving her paws excitedly, “But this is a _real_ mystery, Snufkin! Don’t you want to find out?”

_Not more than I want to see Moomin._ But he didn’t voice it. He was having trouble keeping up with Snorkmaiden as she forged across the field and into the woods, turning the box over, peering at the carving and trying to pry it open. Snufkin followed in her wake, befuddled.

As they passed _The Adventure_ , still sitting on its hill, Snufkin called for her to stop, trying to catch his breath. He was bone-tired, and their breakneck pace was starting to wear on him.

“You seem rather obsessed,” he noted, picking at his pack straps.

“And you seem rather disinterested!” she shot back, looking up at him. She took a deep breath. “Sorry,” she apologized. “That was short of me.”

“Does it really mean so much to you?”

She nodded, tapping at the lid thoughtfully. “Yes. Is that odd?”

“I suppose not.” Snufkin glanced over his shoulder in the direction of Moominhouse. “I’m sorry to say it, but I don’t want to see Alicia now. I’d rather just have a sit down.” He smiled at her, then finished with, “perhaps a bath, too.”

Snorkmaiden bobbed in place, thinking. “Alright… I’m not sure why, but this feels very important. Is it okay if I go see her without you?”

Snufkin nodded. “Of course. I’ll tell Moomin you said ‘hello’.”

“I’ll tell Alicia the same. Oh, and while you’re at it,” she said, only half-joking, “tell Moomintroll not to wander off without telling anyone. It’s ever so troublesome.”

They said their goodbyes, and each set off in a different direction. Snufkin waved goodbye when he reached the treeline, still at a loss as to the suddenness of what just occurred. _Odd creatures, these ones,_ he thought fondly as he struck out towards home. _I keep such strange company._

* * *

 

The short walk back was just that, and in no time at all Snufkin found himself standing on the footbridge, staring up at Moominhouse nervously. He could see movement behind the windows, and the smell of fresh baking wafted down to him on the breeze.  

There was little to be nervous about, yet here he was, thoughts running ‘round his head like a runaway carousel. He fingered his harmonica thoughtfully, wondering if he should sit down and let his spring tune -and in turn, Moomin- come to him. What if Moomin didn’t come down again? What if something else had snatched his friend away? Would it be better to knock and save himself the worry?

In the end, his decision was made for him.

"Snufkin!"

The door of Moominhouse banged open, and a large, round shape came barrelling down the hill toward him, waving his arms enthusiastically. In that instant, Snufkin's anxious thoughts abandoned him, wholly and completely. His pack dropped from his shoulders with a thump and he, too, was running, his heart pounding in time with his boots along the path. In the instant before the two met in the middle, Snufkin thought he glimpsed a look of surprise on Moomin's face, just before the two collided in a flurry of ecstatic motion.

Moomin's arms wrapped around his waist, and Snufkin found himself lifted off his feet and spun around in a whirl of breathless laughter- his hat flew from his head as they spun, and Snufkin laughed all the harder, feeling the sun-warmed fur press into him, soft as a summer's day. Grinning like a madman, he pressed his face into the crook of Moomin's shoulder, closing his eyes to avoid becoming dizzy as they stumbled around and around in a careless, impromptu dance.

He hardly noticed when his feet touched back to the ground, and Snufkin sagged against his large friend with a desperate sort of relief. His hands, which couldn't quite reach all the way around Moomin's middle, held onto great fistfuls of his shaggy winter coat. His face felt warm, and he was lightheaded from all the spinning, so he held onto Moomin like a rock in a storm, part of him hoping he'd never let go.

When he did, it was with a momentary jolt of reluctance. Snufkin rocked backwards dizzily, and caught sight of Moomin's eyes, shining blue in the afternoon sun. Moomin beamed at him, his round white snout brushed with the barest hint of pink. The fur that tipped his ears blew gently in the breeze, and Snufkin found himself unable to look away, momentarily stunned.

_This is what it feels like,_ he thought giddily. _To finally be home._

"Snufkin?" Moomin sounded concerned, a slight frown marring his features. His brow crinkled slightly. "Are you alright?"

In lieu of an answer, Snufkin stepped forward and threw his arms back around Moomin's shoulders. He had to tiptoe to do it, but that didn’t matter. He felt light as a poplar seed, and the feeling in his chest grew like a warm sunbeam as he felt Moomin embrace him again.

"I'm quite well," he mumbled into Moomin's shoulder. He breathed in, and smelled fresh grass, and strawberry jam. "Quite well, indeed."

"Your hat's on the ground," Moomin said, still sounding a tad worried.

Snufkin only chuckled. "And there it can stay," he replied. "The begonias can have it."

"They don't wear it nearly as well as you do," giggled Moomin happily. With a start, he pulled back from their embrace and looked at Snufkin disbelievingly. "Snufkin!" He exclaimed, waving a hand over Snufkin's messy hair. "You’ve shrunk!"

Snufkin made a small, affronted sound, pushing Moomin's arm away. "I've not," he said insistently, looking up at him with a grin he could not contain. "You must have grown!"

Moomin beamed as if it were the best compliment he'd ever received. "Mamma says I've grown nearly a half-inch since last year. I'm almost as tall as Papa, now!"

Snufkin's heart bloomed with fondness, his chest stuffed full of cotton. "It's very good to see you, Moomintroll," he said in a carefully steadied voice; it felt like the world's biggest understatement- just being next to the troll lifted some great weight off his shoulders. The grass smelled that much sweeter, and the sun seemed to shine brighter in his presence.

"What do you want to do, Snufkin?" Moomin looked around, thinking. "We could go to the beach to look for shells, or hang a hammock over the creek, or-" he gasped, taking both of Snufkin's hands in his- "we could go on an adventure of our very own, up Lonely Mountain!"

Snufkin smiled wryly, his gaze wandering again to the tufts of fur on the ends of Moomin's ears. "I think," he said with soft conviction, "I think I'd just like to sit down for a while. I'd like to play my new song, if you’ll listen."

Moomin thought about that, then nodded. "Alright, then. Did you bring your fishing rod?"

"Of course.”

"Then I'll fish while you play," Moomin said, bouncing up and down on his heels. "Too-Ticky's been teaching me, and I'm getting rather good!"

Snufkin raised an eyebrow. Where before he may have found that innocuous, now he wondered if Moomin was intentionally leaving out _when_ he'd been fishing. He had his suspicions, but he wanted to hear it from Moomin- it wasn’t much like him to keep secrets.

_You've got a few of your own,_ said the voice he knew well. _Best not call the kettle black._

No matter how badly Snufkin wanted to ask, he couldn't. It wasn’t a conversation for reunions, anyhow.

And so, with his hand still in Moomin’s, the two meandered back to the bridge. Snufkin sat as he often did, just close enough to feel Moomin's fur tickle his knees. They fished, and sang, and talked about nothing and everything until the sun began its slow dip beyond the horizon.

Even with the chill of evening, Snufkin felt warm all over. After an hour or so, he found himself swaying gently, his eyelids feeling strangely heavy. Between blinks, he found himself leaning on Moomin, who had gone stiff as a board, his paws tight around the fishing pole. His dignity scolded him distantly, and Snufkin felt the urge to rouse himself- an urge that was quickly drowned by the soreness in his limbs, and the warmth emanating from his soft new pillow.

_I feel very foolish,_ he thought, rubbing his eyes drowsily. Over the creek, a dove rose and fell in lazy circles under a large pink cloud. The soft _click click_ ing of the fishing rod in Moomin’s paws drew his eyes closed again in a long and comfortable blink.

For the first time since autumn, Snufkin slept soundly- and in his dream there lived a gentle strawberry breeze, one extremely soft cloud, and a spring that seemed to last forever.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me this long everybody! We're nearly there, I promise. You're doing great.


	6. An intermission, of sorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> The final chapter still needs some time in the oven, but I didn't want to go without an update this week. As such, I wanted you all to have a short in-between bit to tide everybody over. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Night fell softly on Moominvalley, as it often did as winter made its swift retreat.

Just off the veranda, the air swarmed lazily with the lights of lantern bugs, mirrored quietly by the starry sky above. Moominmamma watched the stars poke out one after another, and wondered if they were lonely up there, so far away from everyone else.

Her vigil was a familiar one, and one she had made comfy with the blanket over her lap and the plate of fresh biscuits on the table next to her. With the sheets off the furniture and the water wrung out of the drapes, there was little to do but sit and watch the world go by.

To that end, she sipped her tea and glanced down from the sky at the two figures sitting on the footbridge. They were only silhouettes now, blending into the night with how still and quiet they appeared. _Silhouette_ , she corrected herself humorously. _There’s hardly a space between them_.

A creak sounded as Moominpappa poked his head out the door. "They're finished," he said, the crow's feet around his eyes crinkling. "And they're quite proud, too."

Moominmamma folded her blanket and took the arm offered by her husband, standing with a sigh of effort. It wasn’t that she needed the assistance, exactly, though her knees thanked her for taking it. After long years of gardening, and especially following their brief adventure, Moominmamma was feeling her age.

That, she thought as she nuzzled Moominpappa gently, and it's quite nice to have someone to lean on, occasionally.

Inside, the smell of baking rose to meet her, and she breathed it in with a sigh of contentment. It was always something special to have someone cook for you (which is why she did it so often). The kitchen was liable to be a mess as well, but that was what came with Little My doing just about anything- and she wouldn’t change that for the world.

In the living room, Snorkmaiden sat in the armchair with a cup of cocoa and a large stack of borrowed books. They were dusty and dog-eared, and every one of them had strange titles such as: _Glades and their Gifts_ or, _A Guide to Fae Customs_ and such. She'd had her nose in them even as she'd arrived, and had only paused to smile at Snufkin and kiss the top of Moomin's blushing head as she'd passed them on the bridge. Now, she read like a Snork possessed, glancing every so often at the box that lay on the table in front of her.

"Food's ready," Moominmamma said gently as they passed, though Snorkmaiden only hummed acknowledgement and continued to read. Moominmamma smiled wryly, trying very hard indeed to not break and tell her exactly which book she should be looking in. It was a good thing for young people to find their own answers- that was the point of such things, after all.

The kitchen, as she'd guessed, looked like a bomb had gone off. Flour peppered the walls, a can of cherries dripped idly off the counter, and a heap of eggshells sat abandoned by the tea kettle. But Moominmamma only had eyes for her children.

Little My was standing on Toft's shoulders, her tongue sticking out in concentration as she drew something in icing atop the golden-crust of the pie. When Moominmamma and Moominpappa entered, she started, and shouted, "It's not ready, yet!" With a panicked sort of conviction.

"It certainly smells ready," said Moominpappa humorously, looking over her shoulder. Yelling, Little My bopped him on the nose with the icing tube and held out her arms wide, making Toft stumble beneath her.

"Watch it," the boy said crossly, flicking her ankle. "We nearly fell!"

"Hush down there," Little My shot back. "Don't look!"

Smiling, Moominmamma covered her eyes. "Tell me when," she said patiently, feeling very happy indeed.

The two shuffled back into place, and a few seconds passed in relative silence before Little My considered her work, then nodded to Toft.

"Done!" He announced, pulling at My's ankles until she hopped down. Moominmamma uncovered her eyes, and beheld the pie.

Steam rose from its latticed top, and here and there, bits of cherry filling poked out from underneath the woven crust. Atop it in icing was drawn a lumpy figure with a red apron and two cherry eyes whose uneven arms stuck straight out from her sides as if to offer a hug. The pie was still hot, and the icing-Moominmamma seemed to be melting slowly, soaking into the crust and making her look a bit like an amorphous, red-eyed blob.

"It looks wonderful," she said wholeheartedly, clasping her hands together.

"Yes," offered Moominpappa, winking at her. "They've captured your likeness perfectly, dear."

Toft and Little My grinned up at her, and Moominmamma briefly had to stop herself from wiping their flour-covered faces with the hem of her apron. "Shall we let Moomin and Snufkin know it's ready while it cools?"

"You might have to dust them off first," Little My whispered to Toft surreptitiously.

Toft looked like he was struggling not to laugh. "We'll get tea ready while you're out," he said primly, nudging Little My.

Moominmamma and Moominpappa left them there, arguing over which tea went best with cherry pie. It was jasmine, Moominmamma knew, but far be it from her to make their decisions for them.

The air outside was chilly, so the Moomin parents walked side by side, as closely as they could without tripping over each other. The fireflies parted way for them all the way to the bridge, where Moomintroll and Snufkin still sat, very much their mirror. Moominmamma smiled at the thought.

Snufkin's head lay on Moomin's shoulder, soft snores coming from the lad as he dozed, half draped over her son. Moomin held a fishing rod in his paws, though its hook drifted in the breeze, and looked to be quite dry. He was staring at Snufkin quietly, and jumped when Moominpappa stepped onto the bridge with a conspicuous thump.

"Good evening," Moomin whispered, trying not to wake Snufkin. Though his expression was quite composed, Moominmamma saw that he had flushed from his chin to his ears at being caught like this. "I can't move."

"I see," said Moominmamma in a hushed tone. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Moominpappa struggling not to smile. "He must be quite tuckered out."

Moomin nodded. "He and Snorkmaiden slept in a cave last night."

"Well," Moominpappa put in, "I'm glad they weren't caught in the rain."

Quiet as she could, Moominmamma stooped to pick up Snufkin's pack from where it had flopped over against the railing. Its contents jingled loudly, and all three of them looked to Snufkin- but he only snored louder. Pack in paw, they crept past Moomin, his father squeezing his shoulder as they did.

Once they were across the bridge, Moominmamma took Snufkin's tent out of his bag, careful not to look at anything else that was inside. _Everyone needs a little privacy_ , she thought, buttoning it closed and handing the tent poles to Moominpappa.

They set up Snufkin's tent in its usual place as quietly as they could, stealing glimpses of the two on the bridge whenever they thought Moomintroll wasn't looking. Once it was done, Moominpappa lay Snufkin's bedroll out inside, and Moominmamma placed her folded blanket on top, just in case he needed it.

“There’s pie inside, if you want some,” Moominmamma said as they crossed back over the bridge. “And let Snufkin know he’s always welcome, too.”

Moomin nodded, smiling. “Of course, mama. We’ll be in in a moment.”

The walk back to Moominhouse was short, but Moominmamma savoured it. It was a _feeling_ more than anything she might be able to explain- the valley rousing itself felt drowsy, and promising; content in its slow stirring.

_I do love springtime,_ she mused as she stepped over the threshold of the house they’d made their own. There were chips in the paint, and cracks in the joints where the house had settled with its occupants many times over, but it was home.

With a happy heart, Moominmamma breathed in the smell of fresh pie, and went to join her family.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me this far, it really does mean the world to me. The last chapter just needs some edits and transitional elements to be ready, so I hope to get it out for early next week. Thanks for understanding, and I'll see you in the final chapter!


	7. In which we find The End, for now

Snorkmaiden lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling and thinking.

Rain, a soft, sparse rain this time, pattered against the windows, smearing the shadows the moon made as it peered in through the open drapes. Her hands were locked over her chest, her fingers picking idly at the soft duvet that Moominmamma had given her for the night. Despite how comfortable she was, she felt stifled.

Her eyes were itchy from all her reading, but she found that she could not close them; even now, she longed to dive back into the books Alicia had leant her. The mysterious box she'd found in place of her flower crown had settled into her mind to stay, consuming her waking thoughts with a fervor she had rarely felt- it scared her, a little. But she had never felt so… driven.

The cracking of the door brought her out of her stupor, and the round, apologetic shape of Moomintroll appeared in the doorway, holding a candle.

"Can I come in?" He said plaintively, already slipping away as if she would deny him. _As if I could._

"Of course you can, silly," Snorkmaiden said in a hushed voice, trying not to smile at the way Moomin's face lit up, brighter than any candle. He sidled in, latched the door behind him, then crawled into bed, cradling the candleholder in his lap.

For a while, they said nothing. Then, hesitantly, Moomin whispered, "I'm sorry we left for so long."

He sounded as if he expected her to shout at him or some other such nonsense. Instead, Snorkmaiden rolled her head on her pillow to look at him and said, "I'm sorry it took so long to find you."

Moomin scoffed, quietly. "That's a strange thing to be sorry for."

"I'm a strange Snork," she replied easily, though an odd thought struck her as she spoke- she didn’t know if that was true, really. She knew a great deal about Moomins; about how they used to dine on pine needles and live behind stoves and chimney pipes. About how they had to wish under a new moon if they wanted children, and how their ancestors were still around, causing all sorts of mischief. She knew that they were natural builders and that they swam very well for how portly they appeared.

Moomin had said something, but Snorkmaiden wasn’t paying attention. She had gotten distracted by the sight of her own paw in front of her, fur shifting to a blueish purple as she thought. The colour ran like twilight across the horizons of her fingers, pooling pensively in her palm.

 _I'm a Snork_ , she thought. _I change colors with my mood_. And that was it. That was all she knew about Snorks. Her paw took a tinge of red as she stared at it, aware of the frustration bubbling up inside her chest.

"Snorkmaiden?"

"Hmm?"

"Did you hear what I said?" Moomin sounded almost petrified.

"Of course," she said, still looking at her paw. "Of course I did."

"A-and?"

"And what?"

Moomin stared at her, looking mortified. "I, um..." he fidgeted with the candle uncertainly. "I thought you'd react differently, that's all."

Suddenly, Snorkmaiden got the feeling she had missed something rather important. She sat up.

"Sorry," she said cautiously. "I'm a little worn out. Could you tell me again?"

Moomin looked like he'd much rather jump into a volcano or sink into the floor. "I... I only said..."

Snorkmaiden stared at him now, more worried by the minute. Her mouth was dry. She didn't dare interrupt, or he might lose his nerve, but her heart was beating quicker than it had just a second ago.

"I... that is..." he looked like he was about to cry. Snorkmaiden wanted to shake him.

Just as she was at her wits end, he blurted it out in one breath: "It'saboutSnufkin!"

Snorkmaiden crooked an eyebrow. "Pardon?"

Moomin swallowed, gathering his courage again. "I think I might... that is to say… _like_ Snufkin. Quite a lot, I’m afraid. As in... I may have, er... feelings for him, I mean."

There was silence for a minute. Snorkmaiden felt a lot of things, just then: frustrated, and resigned, but also an odd sort of relief. She breathed in heavily, then reached out to take his paw in hers, squeezing him gently.

"Oh, Moomin," she said, quietly. "Don’t be daft."

He blinked. "W-what?"

 _Oh, you stupid Moomintroll..._ "Obviously you have feelings for him. Anyone with eyes could see that." She smiled sadly, trying to keep her breathing even. "Did you really think I didn't know?"

"But how could you?" Moomin said, agog. "I've only just figured it out myself!"

Snorkmaiden sighed, running a paw down her face. She collected herself- this wasn’t about to be an easy conversation.

"Is it..." she began carefully, not wanting to say the wrong thing. Quietly, the frustration simmered again, like a pot that had gone too long unattended. _This isn't fair,_ she thought to no one but herself. _I shouldn’t have to dance around him as if he were a child._ It came to her then, the question that would make all the difference.

"Do you love him?"

Moomin's face looked ready to crumple. He was fussing endlessly with the candle holder, avoiding her eyes. "I... I think so?" She looked at him, waiting. "Yes," he admitted, quietly, looking like someone who had just confessed to a heinous sort of crime.

Snorkmaiden nodded. She'd known, _of course_ she had- but that didn’t stop it from hurting all the same. Her eyes prickled, though she could not pick out a particular reason as to why.

She was angry, she realized then, if just a little. She blinked heavily and tried to pull her thoughts into order. They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a long time, both thinking.

"Do you love me?" She asked finally, the words coming easier than she'd thought they would. As they left her, they took a weight with them that she had not noticed she was carrying.

Moomintroll jerked back as if struck. "Of course, I do! Of course I love you, how could I not?"

 _Because you love him,_ she thought miserably. "Do... do you love me more than Snufkin?"

It was a selfish question she knew, but she deserved the answer. "Wh- that's..." he stumbled for a minute. "That's entirely different! You're both so different, I just..." he swallowed heavily. "I do love you, Snorkmaiden."

Silence, for a beat. "I know, Moomin." Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

"Good," he said, looking very intense all of a sudden. "And... and just because I love S-snufkin, that doesn’t mean I can't love you!"

She believed him. She did. He had such a lot of love to give, this Moomintroll. Dimly, she was aware of Moomin rambling onward, though again she found herself distracted by the colours shifting across her paw, reds and yellows and purples coalescing into a painting writ across her skin.

"-and we can have a sit down and figure something out between us, because I know you and Snufkin like each other quite well, and I wouldn't want to-"

He stammered to a stop when Snorkmaiden reached a paw out to cup his cheek.

"Moomintroll," she said simply.

"Snorkmaiden?"

There was a pause, just long enough for the candle to flicker.

"Do you remember when you found that dragon?" She asked, suddenly.

Moomin cocked his head, looking quite bewildered. "Of course. Hard to forget something like that."

"Sometimes..." she thought for a moment, making sure she chose her words right. "Sometimes I feel as if you're a dragon, Moomin."

Now he looked even more confused. "Ah..." he said, nodding vaguely. "Thanks?"

Snorkmaiden sighed. "Moomintroll..." she tried again: "Remember how you felt when the dragon seemed to like Snufkin more than you? Even though you really cared for it?"

He nodded again, his brow furrowing. She stared at him meaningfully and waited. Slowly, it dawned on him- she could see it in his eyes.

"But-" he started, looking aghast. "I'm not..." she smiled at him faintly. "Oh."

She watched several emotions run across him then, one after another. Eventually, he landed on sadness, a tight frown marring his soft, handsome face.

He looked at her mournfully. "I'm quite a fool," he said, looking like he wanted to say more.

In answer, Snorkmaiden smiled and patted his paw. "Perhaps," she breathed. _You have porridge between your ears, dear Moomintroll._ "Quite silly, at any rate." She curled both paws around his and stared into his eyes fondly. "And I love you terribly, silly though you may be. I love you, no matter what else."

"I really meant it," he said in answer, squeezing her paw, though he didn't say it again.

 _I know, Moomin. Heaven's sakes, I know._ She closed her eyes, and took a leap. "I think you should tell him."

"Tell... Snufkin?" The frightened look was back, this time accompanied by a flush of pink across his snout. "What?"

"I think you should tell him. Right now."

"But-" he spluttered, going a fantastic shade of red. _He might be a Snork, himself_ , Snorkmaiden thought amusedly as he fumbled for words. "That's not... I need time to- I'm not ready for that!"

Suppressing a laugh, Snorkmaiden raised an eyebrow. "What?" she asked dryly, soaking in his panic. "Need to write him another sonnet?"

He gaped at her, then crossed his arms sullenly. "Don't do that. We were having a serious conversation!"

"Were we?" She retorted with a dry smile. "It seemed a bit one-sided to me."

He seemed to deflate then, and she smiled at him ruefully. "Don't be so dramatic," she said in a softer voice, reaching out again for his paw. He took it, though he couldn't seem to meet her gaze. "It probably won't be nearly so terrible as you're thinking."

"It could hardly go _worse_ than what I'm thinking," he muttered. He went still then, and Snorkmaiden could see the cogs in his head turning. "What if he doesn’t feel the same?"

Snorkmaiden was glad that he was turned away, so she could hide her snort better. She recovered quickly, with the ironclad certainty of someone who knew better.

"You'll never know if you don’t try," she said, simply.

His eyes were wide and uncertain, but Snorkmaiden was anything but. She let go of his hand and tried to ignore the itching in her fingers. "Will you let me know what he says in the morning?"

All things said, she was curious. Embarrassed, angry, and all together miserable, true, but curious also. For all that had just been said, she truly did love him, as much and as often as a first love could. She wanted him to be happy, above all else. With a look of determination, Moomin gathered his candle and his courage and walked to the door. He looked back in the doorway, and Snorkmaiden gave him a weak wave.

"Goodnight, Snorkmaiden," he said quietly.

"Goodnight, Moomintroll."

And that was that.

The rain had stopped, and the moon had come out completely from behind the clouds, striping the room in cold, blue light. Snorkmaiden sat on the bed for a time, then breathed a shaky breath and walked to the window.

Below her, she could see Moomin, standing outside of Snufkin's tent. After a moment, the flap opened, and he crawled in, the candlelight flicking shadows on the inside of the canvas. Snorkmaiden watched for a second longer, then looked up at the moon, pale and full in the sky.

She breathed again, then wiped her eyes. A rather foolish thought occurred to her then, and she clasped her hands in front of her, then turned three times in a circle. _I wish..._ she thought, furiously, feeling very silly. _I wish I knew what to do now. I wish I knew who I'm supposed to be._

After the third spin, she opened her eyes and stared up at the moon, waiting. She didn’t know how any of this wishing business worked exactly, but she hoped with all her might that she had been heard by something.

Nothing happened. Not immediately, anyway. After a time, a cold knot tied itself in her stomach, and her thoughts became rather too loud until she sat down hard on the edge of the bed, feeling so very stupid.

 _Why did I say that to him?_ She wondered, sniffling. _What kind of idiot-_ She pressed her paws over her eyes with a groan, falling backwards onto the mattress. _You stupid, foolish Snork, you._

She thought of the candle-lit tent across the river and wondered what they were talking about now. For a terrible moment, she hoped that Moomin would come back, that Snufkin hadn’t felt the same after all. Perhaps she had simply been misreading things the whole time? She knew she hadn't, though. _They're probably holding hands down there, maybe even..._

It was too much. Teary-eyed and hiccupping, Snorkmaiden stomped over to the window and ripped the blinds shut, plunging the room into muggy darkness.

She had been happy for him, briefly; but now there was only regret and confusion. A part of her knew that whatever happened, she would still be there for both of them- but it was a small part, drowned out by the numbing heartache of a choice unsurely made.

 _It's what they both want. I know it_. She'd teased them about it many times, but it was a different thing to watch it happen. To have _made_ it happen. _It's what they truly want_ , she told herself again, knowing it was true.

_And what do you want?_

The question seemed to come from nowhere- it didn’t even have the common decency to have an answer for itself.

Sniffling, Snorkmaiden shuffled over to her bedside and flicked on the lamp, rubbing her eyes fitfully. She cast her gaze around the room dully, not truly seeing anything, wishing for something to distract her- and like an old thunderclap, the box rolled back into her mind. She could picture it where she'd left it, on the coffee table, next to her stack of books.

She grabbed her own candle with a sigh, rubbing her eyes with her free paw. _Perhaps just a bit more reading, then. It can't very well make things worse._

Her candle lit, she crept out of the room, making sure to close the door quietly behind her so as not to wake anyone else. She took the steps one by one, avoiding the places she'd long since learned made the loudest creaks. Strangely, once she reached the landing, she could see a light coming from the kitchen, and hear someone moving about. Despite herself, she edged to the doorway and looked inside.

Moominmamma stood at the sink, measuring portions of tea. She moved very quietly, and with practised paws, pouring, sealing, and placing the finished tea bags into a painted tin that sat to one side.

She hadn't meant to be noticed, but as she often did, Moominmamma seemed to know. _It must be a mother thing._

"Good evening, dear," Moominmamma said in a hush, glancing toward her kindly. "Trouble sleeping?"

Snorkmaiden snuffed the candle and put on a face that she hoped looked less tired. "A bit," she said, just as quietly. She stepped further into the room, glancing around; of the meal they had shared earlier, there was no sign. The kitchen was as spotless and neat as if it had never been used at all, and not for the first time, Snorkmaiden wondered where Moominmamma found the time and patience for that kind of cleaning.

Moominmamma smiled at her, brushing her paws off on her apron. "I'm in a similar boat, dear. Would you like some tea?"

The list of things Snorkmaiden wanted was getting rather too long for her taste. _I want to stop thinking so much,_ she decided tiredly.

To Moominmamma, she only said: "I'd love some."

She sat down at the table, while Moominmamma busied herself with the kettle. Ordinarily, she'd have helped in some capacity, but Snorkmaiden felt rooted to the spot as soon as she'd sat, as if a weight too large for her had settled over her shoulders.

If Moominmamma noticed her internal struggle, she did not pry. Instead, she hummed quietly as she divvied out her newly packed teabags, placing them into the mugs that sat on the counter. Snorkmaiden cocked her head- she hadn’t opened a cabinet, and yet, the two mugs had already been waiting.

She considered asking about them, but before she could get around to it, Moominmamma spoke.

"I hope you don't mind lemongrass," she said idly. When Snorkmaiden shrugged, she smiled again, and continued.

"Mrs. Fillyjonk tells me it eases the mind, and I'm inclined to believe her- I find sleep doesn’t agree with me after such an adventure," Moominmamma said lightly. "There's ever so much to worry about."

Snorkmaiden cocked her head. "Like what?"

"Oh, the normal things," came the reply, with a hint of a smile. "Where the children are- how they're doing, and if they're getting enough to eat. If they are warm and safe. That sort of thing."

"Moomin didn't wander while you were out, did he?" It seemed like a thing he would do.

Moominmamma placed her tea on the table gently and gave her a meaningful look. "Not at all," she said. "He and Little My were the very definition of well-behaved."

Snorkmaiden smiled at that, reaching out to take her mug. The warm ceramic seemed to melt into her paws; she hadn't realized that she'd had a chill.

"I wished a very silly wish, just now," Snorkmaiden admitted, mumbling into her cup.

"Did you?" Asked Moominmamma politely, pouring her own cup full. "I've always thought one ought to be allowed to make silly wishes, every now and again."

"Not one like this," she said miserably. "It was ever-so childish. I wished that I knew what to do."

Moominmamma considered that for a moment, stirring her tea. "That's not so terrible," she decided. "Why, I must wish for that three times a day!"

Snorkmaiden blinked. "You?" She said, surprised. "I won't believe it." But Moominmamma only smiled.

"Its true," she said. "Sometimes more."

Snorkmaiden was skeptical. "But," she wondered quietly, "one ought to know what to do, shouldn't they? Otherwise, how does anything get done?"

"Mostly by accident," admitted Moominmamma with a faint smile, leaning daintily against the counter. "Occasionally on purpose."

Snorkmaiden thought about that. "But if I don’t know what to do..." she said, trailing off. She felt very heavy. Her legs kicked idly under the table, and she forced herself to stop. _I must sound like some spoiled child,_ she thought, straightening her posture. She took a sip of tea to ease her throat.

Moominmamma studied her with a very complicated sort of expression. "First, one must figure out what they _ought_ to do, and see if it's the same as what they _want_ to do."

"And," Snorkmaiden probed uncertainly, "and what if... what if they're different? And what if someone else wants something different, too?"

Moominmamma took a sip of her tea and just like that, seemed to understand. "My," she said gravely, "Quite the predicament, indeed."

Snorkmaiden nodded miserably. The two sat in silence for a minute, both thinking very hard.

"Would you mind very much if I told you a story?" Moominmamma said suddenly. She smiled kindly and laid down her cup on the table. "It's a tale I haven't told anyone in a very long time."

Her curiosity piqued, Snorkmaiden nodded. Moominmamma pulled out a chair opposite her and sank into it with a sigh. She stirred her tea pensively, and Snorkmaiden waited, taking a sip of hers.

"When I was your age, I lived in a place very far away from here on a salty sort of coast,” Moominmamma began. “My family made boats for people who wanted to cross the sea, and I saw many sorts of people come and go. I didn’t much like my family's work, even though I was quite good at it. I wanted to be like the travellers, wandering the world without a care. One day, I was in a dismal mood, so I went to the beach to throw my chisel into the sea- I promised myself I'd never make another boat so long as I lived. When I came home without it, my father was furious, and sent me back to collect it (without supper, mind you). But when I went down to where it should have washed up, I found something else where it should have been."

Snorkmaiden perked up, very interested all of a sudden. Without prompting, Moominmamma continued, looking at her with a knowing sort of look: "It might sound too strange to believe. Are you sure you want to know?"

Snorkmaiden sniffed. "After all that, I couldn't not. What was it?"

“It may be easier to show you,” Moominmamma said smiling. She reached into her apron and retrieved a dusty, cloth-wrapped package. “I’ve been keeping it in the attic,” she said, setting the thing down in front of Snorkmaiden with great care. “I’d almost forgotten I still had it, in truth.”

Near bursting with curiosity, Snorkmaiden set down her cup to unwrap the bundle, set the cloth aside gently. She looked at the thing in front of her for a long minute, not quite understanding- her mind had stopped, as if it were a train that had run off its track.

On the table rested a small wooden box, its lid engraved with an intricate carving. For a moment, Snorkmaiden nearly mistook it for the one in the living room, so similar was its shape; it was _identical_ , she was sure, save for the fact that this box sported a crescent wave in the place of her dandelion.

"Strike me pink," she murmured softly, brushing her fingers across the carving on its lid: the dark, oiled wave crested near in half, seafoam bristling off its break- the carving was so real, that when she removed her paw, she half-expected it expected it to come away wet.

With another gasp, she noticed a seam around its middle. She opened it reverently after a nod from Moominmamma, but the inside was only plain, barren wood. "What was inside?" She asked, a note of desperation in her voice.

"You might not believe me," Moominmamma said, smiling wryly.

"I would! Oh, do go on, please."

"Alright. When I took it back to my father in place of the chisel, he was furious, and sent me back out to look for the dratted thing. He told me to come back with the chisel, or not at all. I wanted to run away, but I'd never left home before. I didn't know if I should go east, or west, or north, or south, and I didn't know if I'd be able to make it very far on my own, anyhow- so I made a very silly wish."

Snorkmaiden was brimming with anticipation, but she dared not interrupt.

"I wished for a sign to come to me, to tell me where I should go. Anywhere but back home without supper. And just like that, it opened in my paws."

 _And!?_ Snorkmaiden wanted to shout, but she held her tongue and waited with bated breath. Moominmamma continued.

"Inside, folded impossibly tiny sat a sail, striped red and white like a peppermint. And as I held it in my paws, I knew exactly what I had to do." She smiled at the enamoured look on Snorkmaiden's face. "First, I had to steal a boat."

"You _what?_ "

"I stole a boat!" Repeated Moominmamma fondly. "I raced back home, stuffed my mother's purse with snacks, and made off with a skiff, flying my new sail high on the evening tide. I sailed for a very long time, until my snacks ran out and the sea turned rough. One night, a storm came, so loud and so wild that I thought it had been sent by Ukko himself! I had to rip my sail down in a hurry, just so I wouldn’t be turned over by the wind. I tied it around my waist to keep it safe, but just then, I lost my footing and tumbled off into the water, and was swept away."

Moominmamma stopped then, and took a sip of her tea. Snorkmaiden realized she was leaning over the table, resting her chin in her hands in rapt attention. "What happened next?" She asked, feeling a little childish.

Moominmamma smiled. "Why, you know all the rest!" She said happily. "Unless you fell asleep listening to Moominpappa's stories."

Snorkmaiden thought about that, and suddenly, the two separate tales clicked into place- Moominpappa _had_ told her of the night he met Moominmamma, when she'd washed up on the island in a terrible storm. She stared across the table, thinking very hard indeed. Words seemed a little lost to her, so she just digested the story instead, filling in the gaps in her imagination.

"The sail was badly torn," Moominmamma said sadly, after a minute. "It wasn’t in any fit state to make for a very good sail anymore. But," she told, in a final sort of way, smoothing the striped fabric that lay dutifully across her legs, "it has made for a wonderful apron."

Snorkmaiden didn't quite know what to say to that. Moominmamma, seeming to understand, stood up, and rounded the table to wrap her in a sincere hug. “When done truly,” she said as she squeezed her close, “a wish can be a powerful thing indeed.”

Snorkmaiden wrapped her arms around Moominmamma, feeling the tears coming back to her eyes. Her chest felt full to bursting, her mind busier than ever, but now she thought she understood, just a little better.

"You might not know what to do yet," Moominmamma said quietly, squeezing her close in a way that only mothers knew how. "You might not know for a very long while. But you'll always have a place here, for however long it takes."

Snorkmaiden had never known her true mother. It was something she hadn’t thought about in a very long time, a part of her that Snufkin had dredged up while they were on the mountain. She held onto Moominmamma now as she never had before, feeling something in her chest fill that she hadn't known was empty.

Suddenly, she was crying, burying her face in Moominmamma's fur and letting everything wash over her; her conversation with Moomin, her long and lonely childhood- and the feeling she'd had in her chest when she'd first picked up the strange box, carved with a dandelion.

 _Longing,_ she thought- it was the word she'd been looking for. She'd been longing for something all her life, and had never allowed herself to look for it- it had taken a long, soggy hike up a mountain to see that it was even there.

In the kitchen of Moominhouse under the full moon, Snorkmaiden found a little piece of what she'd been longing for. The rest, she knew, lay elsewhere; in a carved box just one room over; in a grand estate where she'd once danced with kitchen mice; and somewhere near a crab-apple orchard, half a world away.

 

* * *

 

Snufkin soaked in the nighttime sounds of Moominvalley and sighed a deep, resounding sigh- it was the kind of breath one took in the moment they knew everything would be okay. At last, his heart was settled.

Though he had been in Moominvalley for days now, he had not stopped to really _listen_ to it until just now, lying down in his tent. It was all a bit muffled through the canvas, a sweet cacophony that worked into his chest and made him feel light and full at the same time. Despite his long (and slightly embarrassing) nap earlier, he still felt as if his body seemed to weigh a ton. He was not asleep, nor was he trying to get there; instead, he floated through the sweet in-between that lay just above consciousness, allowing his mind to wander.

As it often did, he found it resting on Moomin. His hand twitched sleepily as he recalled their stroll to the bridge, and his heart tittered joyfully.

The sound of soft footfalls roused him from his reflection. He knew in an instant that it was Moomin, though he did not know why he sounded so hesitant. The soft glow of a candle smeared across the front of the tent, and Snufkin waited two long breaths before the soft whistle came.

“Come in,” he said, shuffling forward to open the flap. Moomin entered, blowing out the candle a minute later. The tent fell into darkness, the afterimage of the tiny flame burned into Snufkin’s vision.

The two shuffled about in the dark, finding their places with practised ease. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” Moomin whispered as he set the candle down near the entrance. They lay down next to each other, looking up at the starlit canvas above them.

“Not in the least,” Snufkin, patted the bedroll. “I got quite enough sleep earlier, thanks to you.”

It was meant as a joke, but Moomin seemed to be in a serious sort of mood. “I need to speak with you, Snufkin,” he said, sounding very determined. Despite that, his voice quavered slightly around the edges of his name, sounding guilty- though of what, Snufkin could not imagine.

Snufkin shifted, half-reaching out to comfort him before he stopped himself. _Perhaps it isn’t that sort of talk_ , he reprimanded himself. _You should not assume his intent._

Moomin, however, seemed glad that Snufkin had made the first move towards closeness, and took his paw gladly, moving to press his side against the Mumrik. They lay there, hands entwined as Snufkin waited for his friend to find the words that he needed.

When they came, they were not what he had expected.

"Snufkin?" Moomin asked quietly, sounding just a little sad. "I'm sorry if I scared you... we didn't mean to be gone so long."

Snufkin stared into the dark quietly. He had not wanted to broach the topic earlier, but now it seemed he would have little choice. He squeezed Moomin's hand in the dark, hoping it was enough.

"It was only a day or so," Snufkin replied, perhaps too casually.

Moomin shuffled uncomfortably. "I don’t mean this time- when we went to the lighthouse... We came back and you were already here. I never said anything because I was happy to see you, but I know you were upset, just a little. We never talked about it."

"And why should we?" His head was swimming, so he closed his eyes. "What is there to talk about?"

He could feel Moomin's eyes on him in the dark. His answer hadn't settled Moomin, and more than that, it hadn't been honest. _The least I could give is the truth._

"I've told you before, Moomintroll, though it was long ago, now. I need time to miss you. And..." he paused, rubbing a thumb along the rough spun blanket, "I think I need to be missed, too, just a little."

"Oh. Well, I do miss you when you're gone, Snufkin." The answer was immediate, and heartachingly honest. He could hear it in Moomin's tone, and even though it was too dark in the tent for even Snufkin's eyes to see, he knew Moomin was staring at him. "I miss you a whole lot... even right now, I miss you."

Snufkin chuckled at that. "You're very silly, you know. How can you miss me if I'm right here?" He shook their conjoined hands gently.

Moomin shuffled, rolling to look up at the ceiling of the tent. Snufkin could just make out his shape in the dark, round and pensive against the starlit fabric.

"If I tell you..." Moomin began slowly, laying out his words like a builder lays brick. His voice was so very serious, now, and Snufkin couldn't help but be slightly amused at his tone. "You must promise me something, first."

Snufkin smiled, and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Of course, Moomintroll." _As if I could refuse_. Somewhere in Snufkin's mind, a small voice was berating him about the dangers of a promise given so easily, but he ignored it. It yelled louder, this time about freedom and admiration, but Snufkin rubbed his thumb along Moomin's, and it quieted once again.

"You must promise me, that no matter what, we'll always be friends."

Snufkin blinked. It took a moment for the words to come, buffered by the anxious crack in Moomin's tone. "Of course," he said, a note of sadness creeping into his voice. "Best friends. You're very special to me, Moomintroll. I can't-" his own voice broke now, but he pushed onwards. "I..." He thought for a moment, then held back a laugh.

"What, now," came Moomin's voice, sounding very frayed indeed. "What's so funny about that?"

"It's only-" Snufkin giggled, very much unlike himself. He could tell Moomin thought so too, because he was turned back towards him, suddenly very attentive. "I think I should be angry at you."

Moomin recoiled. "Pardon?"

"I think I should be very angry at you," Snufkin repeated in a light tone. "Of all the places I've gone, and of every wonder I've seen, none can quite compare to you, dear Moomintroll. What's a traveller supposed to make of that?"

Moomin was quiet for a moment, thinking. The burbling of the creek outside filled the silence in a strange, pensive way. Moomin still smelled slightly of strawberries.

"I think," Moomin said, in a way that he was sure the other boy was blushing, "I think that's the best part of the world, Snufkin. That no matter where you go, there are always more wonders to be seen."

Snufkin smiled at that. _This terrific, spectacular Moomintroll_. He cleared his throat. "You were going to tell me something," he recalled, changing the subject.

"Was I?" Moomin's tone was nervous.

"You were," Snufkin returned. "About missing me.”

Moomin made a sound then, one that Snufkin had never heard before. It was a mix between a cough and a squeak, and in an instant, he felt his hand become empty. Moomin had sat up, and was most definitely looking at him now, though his expression was still shrouded.

"It’s only… I miss you because I can't see you, Snufkin," Moomin whispered hoarsely. His careful way of speech was gone, his words now spilling out of him as if he were afraid to keep them. "I miss you because my dreams never get you quite right, and even sitting next to you I'm scared I'll wake up and see snow outside my window again."

Something in Moomin's voice made his heart ache, and he let the feeling run through him, pushing him to sit up as well. "I..." he began, though he did not know where the sentence would lead. "You haven’t been sleeping well?"

Moomin's shape turned away, looking guilty. "'S not so bad," he whispered, nearly too quiet to hear. "Really, it's not. It's silly of me to have said that, I don’t want to-"

"It's not silly," Snufkin interrupted. "I always sleep better when I'm in Moominvalley. Some nights, when I'm away, I don't sleep at all."

"Oh. What do you do instead?"

"Write songs, mostly. And..." he hesitated. Something about the darkness of the tent, the lateness of the hour and the feeling in his chest made him feel as if this were all very surreal. He felt as if something inside him had loosened, and was, for the moment, letting his words spill out unhindered. "I think of Moominvalley. About you. Often."

Moomin was fiddling with his tail, his knees pushed up into his chest. "Does it work?" He asked, sounding hopeful

"Sometimes," admitted Snufkin. "It cheers me up, at any rate."

Moomin thought about that. "I think of you a lot, too," he said. "I think about all the places you're going, and if you're making any new friends, and if you're happy." He looked away. "Sometimes, I just stay up, reading your farewell letter over and over again."

"That can't be very entertaining."

"It is," Moomin sounded as if he were very embarrassed about it. "Sometimes I try and read it in your voice." His shadow straightened. "It makes the winter a little less cold."

Snufkin smiled, though he knew the expression would be lost in the dark. "That's not from your poetry, is it?"

Moomin muttered a curse that sounded oddly like ‘ _Snorkmaiden_ ’ and fretted with his tail. "So what if it was? I don’t have much to do with no one else around, you know."

They listened to the creek for a time, unhurried in each other's company. Finally, Moomin broke the silence. "Is it something you can teach me? How to be alone, I mean."

"I'm... not sure. I'm not sure if it is a thing I could explain, let alone teach."

"Oh."

"You have to..." words, as they often did, failed him. Snufkin had never held great capacity for language in the way that someone like Moominpappa did- it was a different kind of loneliness, he thought, to recall the past as often and as diligently as that man did. _A busier kind, anyway_. He tried again. "You have to be able to not think so much about it. One must simply _be_ in a moment, whenever it happens to be. It's like my harmonica, I think. I wouldn't know how to write down the notes, but when I'm playing, they just... happen. If I think too hard about what I'm playing, or where I'm placing my fingers, it falls apart a bit."

Moomin hummed, trying to understand. "Maybe I should learn an instrument?" He offered.

"That sounds like a splendid idea," said Snufkin truthfully. "We'd be able to play together, then."

"Only when you're here." It was quiet again for a moment. "Snufkin?" Came the question. He sounded a bit lost.

"Moomin."

"I'm not sure I can be alone like that."

Snufkin rolled that over in his head. "That's okay," he decided. "You can't change your nature, Moomintroll. And I wouldn’t ask you to."

"But..." Moomin sounded frustrated. "You've changed so much for me. Sometimes... I feel as if I'm holding you back. And I don’t want you to change your nature for me, either, Snufkin.” He took a deep breath then, as if he were about to dive off a cliff. “No matter what, I- that is, you shouldn’t have to change for- I…”

Moomin was breathing heavily now, grasping for words that would not come to him, but Snufkin understood, all the same. _I know, Moomintroll,_ he thought, a familiar feeling of fondness rising in his chest. Reaching out with his free hand, he cupped Moomin’s face, feeling the wetness on his fur where panicked tears had come, unbidden.

"I have never done a thing as natural as coming back to you, Moomintroll." Were he younger, and as foolish as he had once been, he might have let that be it. But he was changed, now- older, for all the good and ill that brought. And he needed Moomin to know that even if he had changed, it was not something that the other had forced upon him. Wetting his lips, he spoke very softly, letting the words come to him as if they were notes on a harmonica; and when they came, he found they were the truest words he'd ever spoken. "Loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done. I’m only sorry I didn’t say it sooner."

Wordlessly, Snufkin felt Moomin's paw leave his as the boy sat up, sniffling. A moment later, the flick of a match sounded, and a soft flare of light flooded the tent.

In the candle's glow, Moomin's fur seemed to come alive with waves of orange and yellow. Even half in shadow, Snufkin could see the happiness etched in him, his watery eyes dancing along with the candlelight that played off the tufts on his ears.

Snufkin was so busy admiring the way those ears flopped as he moved his head, and the soft curve of Moomin's snout that he missed entirely what he was saying.

"What's that?" He said, somewhat dazedly. Moomin smiled, wide and true, before dousing the candle and setting it back at their feet. The dark seemed fuller now, and Moomin's face played in his vision even after the light had been snuffed.

Moomin lay down with a sigh and fumbled in the dark for Snufkin's hand. "I only wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming," he said sleepily as their fingers intertwined.

Snufkin smiled and lay down next to him, making sure not to part their hands as he did. He did not respond to Moomin, and he knew Moomin did not expect him to. The night was full enough with the sounds of the creek, the nattering of insects and their breathing, each in time with the other.

Snufkin closed his eyes and let himself relax to the cadence. Distantly, he thought of Snorkmaiden's tale of orchestras and grand ensembles, and found himself pitying all the composers and symphonies of the world; for he doubted they would ever find a sound as sweet as this.

Hand in hand, he drifted off to sleep once again with music in his mind, and Moomin's face dancing behind his eyelids.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear reader,
> 
> Thank you for sticking through this with me. It means a lot that you have read this far, and all your kind comments have really brightened the last few weeks.
> 
> In the future, I'd like to write more about Snorkmaiden and her journey to discover who she is, and I hope that when I do, you might come along for the trip.
> 
> Seriously, thank you. You are what makes this hobby worth it.


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